Dear Miss Erin Sobila

Dear Miss Erin Sobila,

You are unquestionably the most desirable woman to have ever walked the face of this Earth.
Your incredible radiance has obliterated even the tiniest shred of memory of any other female.
The sun itself sets in disgrace when its light reaches your magnificence.
Your physical beauty is unmatched, and your inner beauty is (I’m sure) just as resplendent.
If I could be so blessed as to ever be yours, I would devote myself to granting your every whim, to fulfilling your every desire, even if that meant never approaching you again if that is what you wished, so strong is my need to please you.
I will build you a house, cook and clean for you, wash and groom you and even go to the bathroom for you if you allow me.
There is nothing in this world that I would not do to be just one moment in your presence, to be just in the same room as you. To catch your gaze I would gladly cut off both my eyelids; to hear your voice I would without hesitation have my eardrums replaced with digital microchips. To breathe your scent I would receive a lupine snout transplant; to touch you I would consent to an immediate skin graft from disgruntled Norwegian medical students.
You should be crowned Miss Universe and worshiped day and night by legions of castrated Mexican athletes while I spoonfeed you your favorite cereal as you lie on a bed of kittens.
I would make it my life’s work to see to it that you are forevermore in a state of unparalleled ecstasy, constantly on the verge of soul shaking orgasm, leaving you a mass of erotic quivering that I will gather and scoop into the safety of our bed.
I will dress you in colorful, tight fitting lycra and spandex workout clothing with strategically placed cutouts allowing access to your glorious lady parts so that I may tickle them with freshly made donuts.
If you were mine, every morning I would make you my queen, strip you of your monarchy and then re-instate you just before lunch only to make you a powerless figurehead by nightfall.
As a couple we shall not wont for food as l will snort gum drops from behind your ears and lick melted butter off your ankles.
If you get cold I will roll hot pancakes under your arms and spread ice cream over your neck if it gets sunburned. I’ll feast on your every moment, your endless parade of charms, drink in your loveliness and devour your lusciousness.
I’d enjoy using my eyelashes to paint your entire delicious body with warm maple syrup, my elbows to crumble graham crackers onto your buttocks and my knees to squeeze orange juice down your thighs every morning for breakfast.
I’ll kiss your blueberry eyes, nibble your strawberry lips, eat your chocolate fudge hair and drink with a straw the milky whiteness of your skin.
Please let me know by phone, letter, text, email, telegram, Morse code or skywriting if I can count myself lucky enough to even begin to hope to one day be in the rapture of your company.