delicately, — microscopic snowflakes are dancing, — (charming my eyes) intimately, — give free rein to my imagination, decent to fall in love with you… again you, the simple man, — the moment of my silenced meditation, chiseled chic in my essence (begging…), to stay in bed and frenglishly to disassemble my sensations' labyrinth with your triggered longs

the woman in me isn't arrayed; looks for you, not as you think; at whatever hour, she's assisted by a tonic, [coffee or something] the woman in me, — smilingly, adores to make dinner plans; it's one of the benefits of being an absolute fantasist capable to sneak you where she longs the woman in me... seductively, will not try to tempt you, giving booze, food, love, and so on; yet you'll wish imprisoning yourself in her life, in her dreams, into all the woman in me... is cleverly sly, is cynical happy, is hurting no one; beware what you wish or ask for; hating to love her isn't an option; the woman in me might not joke the woman in me is felt, isn't seen, it looks for you, not as you think; yet, at whatever hour, she's assisted by a tonic, [coffee or something]