I love her long golden hair and the way that she chews the end when she's reading. I love the way she reads the Economist yet she has a tattoo of cherry blossom around her wrist. I love the way she never wears black- only colours and constantly looks like she's going to a festival. Sometimes she wears flowers in her hair and ALWAYS wears odd earrings. Her lips always look moist and coloured in that delicious kind of red that you get when you walk into somewhere warm when you have been out in the old all day. Alive. Her hands are so small and delicate, the skin so soft-looking and pale that I want to constantly hold them in mine, keep them warm, keep them safe. Oh GOD I love her. She's the most smiley person I have ever met and I've never met anyone who has so many friends. She was at a party the other day and she waltzed through the crowd like a princess or someone and people cheered and called her name and her hair swang like something out of a shampoo advert, all shiny and soft and smelling of cocoa butter. She makes you feel like the only person on the planet. Her smile is so wide and genuine and full that I want to make her happy. I want to make her mine, give myself to her, throw myself down at her feet and promise her a lifetime of happiness, if she picked Me. I wouldn't even mind if it was just for one night. To be tangled in and around her under a cashmere blanket, all cocoa butter dreams and smiley sex and I bet she has the best orgasms. Oh God, she makes me not ever want to drink again, she makes me want to appreciate every second on this earth as long as she's in it. She's probably the reason that flowers blossom, or why lambs are born or people give money to charity. God I want her, and I want her soon.