Baby, you're the only accept state of my finite automaton.
You are my semicolon; always present in everything I do.
You make my dopamine levels all silly.
The tenderness in your eyes suffocates my heart.
Honey, you're so sweet that even my liver GLUT2 transporters would be at Vmax.
Every time I am close to you, all my problems disappear.
Sexual talk, on the other hand, doesn't work—though many men continue to think so.
Press any key to continue.
I miss you like an ischaemic heart misses its blood supply.
Baby, you make all my binary search trees balance.