She carved my metaphor from marvel, and set it in stone.
More than love or incredible alone.
She walks and switches those hips and they call me.
But I would never switch her hips for those belonging to another.
I keep my outer shell hard but everything melts inside me when, I know that I am going to melt with her again.
Why should I pretend, when it is obvious that I'm hooked, like Pepsi people or friends who love many Miss Wrong's.
The difference is I'm hooked on Miss Right, or should I say Mrs., because when we met down at the alter, we knew that we would alter each others lives making everything before that, old and making this alter new.
All because she carved my metaphor from marvel and set it in stone.