To My Ap
Let me start without an apology
Because you, honey, need not be in apiculture
Every second you bee apiece apiary
As I fall for your rich honey droop apace
Take me to space if you must but never cause apathy
Because you dug in my heart with a never closing aperture
And when in your presence I fumble on words like one with aphasia
Darling the gospel you preach to me makes you an apotheosis of an apostle
Sometimes your therapy I take like you were an apothecary
Or maybe you are but again you make me aplomb
Knowing fully well you're the apostrophe
That omits my imperfections like an apparition
Let me make an appeal
Because if I don't all this might not be applicable
So I appreciate your every applause
As I apprehend
This love you shower me with a posteriori
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