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