His head rests neatly on a pillow of snowy white
He sleeps, peacefully, unfettered by the dreams
and deeds of day
Eyes of hazel closed tightly, fluttering as his
mind paints moving pictures of his desires
His arms, carved from a dark and nameless stone,
curl around his slack jaw
Under heaven's light he reposes, protected from
my lustful prayer
He looks serene, untouched, so pure
Yet I want him to awaken and taste me with those
tiger eyes, those soft lips, to hold me with the
rock-hard arms that are fit only for Greek gods
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