There's Something Wrong With Me

I've been writing this poem in my head for years, but have never written it down. I can't get the ending just right, and so I was debating whether or not to share it with you, fearing that it might ruin the effect, but whatever. This is my draft of  "Honey, I'm Home!" Help me finish it:

Oh Christine,

I watch you

Through rain spattered pane.

Oh Christine,

I hear you

Through wind battered frame.

You sit at your vanity

A joy to humanity!

Brushing your long crimson hair.

Oh, the insanity!

My heart’s in calamity

Beat-beat, beat-beat, in your chair.

Oh Christine,

I see you

All honey and cream.

Oh Christine,

Your skin,

So soft, and so clean.

Of course, I must speculate,

Can only estimate

The feeling of your silken touch.

Let me be your candidate

For love, you may consummate

I’m really not asking for much.

Oh Christine,

My darling!

This plight, I can’t stand!

My Christine,

Your door knob,

Was made for my hand.

No longer alone,

I feel so at home

In the house that I’ve been to before

Please try not to scream

My darling, my queen!

Oh, oh--OH!

Mine at last, my sweet paramour. 

Actually, I'm awesome, and you guys all suck. This is perfect and creepy, but what the fuck?! I can't stop my brain from rhyming again. WHAT IS THIS FRESH HELL? I exclaimed.