Pillow talk was different 2000 years ago. We're back to the male protagonist, who tells his lover that her eyes are like doves and her hair is like a flock of goats winding its way down from Gilead. Sold!
Teeth were just as important, and our heroine's are not only as white as a freshly-bathed sheep, she has all of them. Her lips are red, she speaks well, and her forehead is like... pomegranate. Um, I see pomegranate, I think 'acne.' Maybe this is supposed to be like Sonnet 130? Because in the next verse we find out she has a neck like a linebacker's and her boobs are like twin fawns. That's right: Bambi breasts. Sexy.
In a non sequitur, he has to go hunting for expensive perfumes for the evening. Then? Because she's so hot? Possibly? He asks her to leave Lebanon and come live with him.
He loves her more than wine. Her lips are like honeycombs. Her clothes smell of cedar. Mmmm cedar. He thinks of her as a locked garden, full of spices. He invites the wind to blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out (v. 16). Awesome. Cunnilingus rocks.
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