Good day/evening/night/morning/afternoon/whatever time it is when you read this. My noble lady, Such beauty as yours has never before graced my mortal eyes. The very ground you walk upon grows a voice and sings your praises, its tune laden with the dewy weight of tears of unsurpassed joy. Oh, to merely know of your existence is a happiness beyond expression! How completely and entirely does the English language fall short in its vain attempts to describe your lustrous glow. Your hair is like the long summer grass, your arms like two supple zucchinis, and your eyebrows like the fuzzy caterpillars of early spring. Oh! The joy my heart feels when my eyes behold you! I beseech you to please grace me with the soothing balm of your beneficent presence. I, your humble manservant, would respectfully request that you consider my deep love — nay, longing! — for you, and reply posthaste. I fear I may perish without the soft caress of your smooth voice, falling like a crisp mountain stream over mossy stones. I know you feel the same.

Yours eternally, Corpsefucker