'Tis funny, my Love

'Tis a funny thing, my dear, that I (sometimes) yearn for someone else, another name, another body in my bed.

'Tis a confusing thing, my gorgeous, that I (now and then) flirt, giggle and talk late at night with some men.

'Tis a strange thing, my beautiful, that I (occasionally) say 'morning sexy' and 'goodnight honey' to a stranger to my mind.

'Tis a peculiar thing, my sweets, that I (at times) ponder upon finding someone, anyone, to share my life with, for years to come.

Because it's all different, my love.

My desire… it's not as raw.
My laughter… it's not as free.
My body… it's not as naked.
My eyes… they're not as open.
My flirting… it's not as innocent.
(My legs… they're not as wide.)

You see,
My heart… it's not as deep.
My soul… it's not as bare.
And
My love… it's not as pure.
(Is it even there?)

As it all was, with You.