he

He is beautiful when he is my lover
Not when he is coming through the door after work, setting down his case on the carpet, saying “hello!” cheerily
He is beautiful when his mind is soft and warped with pleasure and his features are set with intent
Not when he is checking his email on his phone while throwing food into his mouth like a stoker
He is beautiful when he is a lightning rod and I am all storm and electricity wrapped around him
Not when he is picking out the music at the grocery store doing a silly dance while I am picking out the right zucchini
He is beautiful when he entwines my limbs with his and his fingers move like water
Not when he is concentrating on something else and pulling his arm up at an angle to lip his arm hairs
He is beautiful when his hand gently forces my neck back, and soft gurgles leave my mouth to ripple out into eternity
Not when he asks me if I went to the same salon again that I told him I would never go back to
But when his skin is glowing and warm and the hair on his body is a strawberry in the sun from the window and his face is peaceful with slumber I adore him like a god

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