i never knew that a body could be so intriguing. i never understood the appeal of michelangelo's david statue.

why, i wondered, would a huge naked man draw not only the eyes of millions but be awe insiring and cause people to look at themselves as a part of a larger scheme?

but, oh my god. i look at you and david? he has no chance. he is made of marble, of stone, but i have a real boy, a living boy.

i will swallow my pride for a moment and admit that you are freaking  beautiful, more than i, and that is when you are clothed.

i could stare at your smile for hours if it didn't make me feel like i'm dying. if i could do so whilst breathing. i look at you, and i feel like i am a part of a greater scheme.

because, there's a chance that i could some day see the most honest way we compliment each other. more than just touch, more than lust, we could be love.

the fact that i will one day know the map of your body like a home town, like my childhood house- david never got the kind of love i want to give you, i'm sure of it.

i imagine that david tasted like cinnamon and guilt with a little bit of victory, or at least, i imagine that's how he would taste to me.

but you, you taste like freedom and fire / shyness and desire, and i'm telling you i would gaze upon you like you are art.

you **** all of the giants and monsters and evils in my head with your words like flying stones.

david has nothing on you babe.

because while he is crafted form marble, i stole you from the stars.