Letter for my lover

Dear Lover

I beg of you please,
Allow me to be frank,
About my attributes,
Of which you may rank;

There’s little of Wilde's Dorian,
Upon my face,
Instead it is weathered,
A tired, worn place;

There's not much of Einstein,
Within my brain,
It's broken and battered,
From a life full of pain;

There's minimal Da Vinci,
Created by these hands,
Calloused and rough,
As hot desert sands;

There's none of Cassanova,
Within my lust,
My appetites more tame,
Than such wild thrust;

There's small amount of Christ,
Lurking in this soul,
My thoughts are of us,
All other’s are null;

There’s scant of Adonis,
In my lax form,
My shape is far closer,
To the present norm;

There’s lacking of Ares,
Within my steel,
Battle inspires fear,
And shame do I feel;

But of you there is much,
Inside my large heart,
Of you there is much,
Surely that is a start?

I love you my Dear,
For now and forever,
And I rank you as such,
Among my greatest treasure.

Yours truly

Rjm