Where are you my darling in the collective billions? There are countless black beauties of Africa whom I contacted on dating sites. To my lucky scar they all bruised me by being scammers. Sex has been a withered leaf all ready to be consumed by the earth to a poisonous death. Woman, my dear one, the thought of seeing you undressed and getting a pen and paper in my hand fills me with erotic ataraxia. Will you read my amorous thoughts of you, the thought of seeing you nude is a painting in my psyche; the thought undressing you and making love to you is a heart of composing music. Woman, will you be there for me, my dearest precious honey? If we were both writers, there would have been so much love and so much caring. Our body’s imperfections will be crafted by sea of symphony where we touch, fondle, love, caress and copulate to an elixir of ecstasy.