He lives in a world of beauty
Self-propelled by his own grace.
He generates his own butterflies,
And the stars in his eyes
Match the moons they are.
His skin is tan and soft,
A comfort to have next to me
Like a subtle sun kiss,
Or a warm summer breeze.
He is perfect, because he claims it.
His beauty is from the inside,
But generates outward as to embrace you
As I want him to embrace me,
So that I can be a part of something beautiful.