Honey, my love,
As they say, the way through a man’s heart is through his stomach. You’re as sweet as honey. I can’t help but smile from ear to ear, showing off my teeth—thankfully, they don’t have cavities. I don’t want toothaches, but I won’t mind if my jaw locks from grinning.
I love how you stick to me even if the people are as busy as the buzzing bees, trying to figure out a way to sting our hearts and poison our souls. They believe we aren’t meant to be; it’s against the morals of this society; it’ll be a disease spreading throughout the community.
They must know it’s not by choice that we feel affection for someone; it’s by fate, by how a glimpse of you could make me feel something swarm inside my stomach. If I could, we'd take a bath filled with honey, and we'd drown as our love would be frozen in amber for ages.
You’re the queen bee. I’m your worker. We’ll fly till our hearts’ content. I won’t let anyone bring us down. Together, we are the bee’s knees. I can’t wait for our honeymoon in our own precious beehive.
Warmly,
Izzykov
