I've heard this phrase used before, other have said it, and it frustrated me.
For to call my love simple desire for another is simply an injustice.
It is like painting over the Mona Lisa with muddied water at the bottom of a dish drainer.
It is like stepping on a Monet, so desperate are you to leave your mark
that you destroy the painting in the process.
My love is like the awakening sun, growing warm with the light,
yet it thrives in the cool evening, where the moon plays gently with the shadows.
You hurt my feelings, sir, by relegating my heart to a world of fleshly cravings.
It is a blemish on my repute, that you would think my body so controls my mind.
Man is not overruled by carnal instincts, but rather with the band of the mind and the wind of the heart.
Romanticism is not yet dead, not in this heart of mine.
And so I caution you, use wisdom in your sight, speak less, observe more.
For my love is like the roar of the tide, ever-flowing, never-ceasing
Ever-growing, unfaltering, even when I don't understand it.
It will always be there, and I will revere its presence as I ought.

So I apologize if you don't understand it,
it's not like I do,
but please don't say it's just my carnal desire
because my love is tamed and owned by God alone
and he will do with it, what he wills.

Soli Deo Gloria.