my eyes are for no other.
handsome forms and
charming words of strangers
fail to turn my head.
my tastes have been
curbed and biased.
reserved for the likes of
...or your prototype at least...
my heart is incapable of
resounding loudly for another [man].
the kindest gesture or
most intellectual exchange
cannot raise a single hair on my head
nor prickle one pore on my forearm.
I am dead to all of them:
Future suitors are merely a sea of
...and in their midst you've surpassed them all.