He is Art


When he looks at me
I swear I cannot
breathe
warmth radiates through
his smile
and the butterflies stir
in my stomach
I would not dare to
look away
slave to his
bluey-grey eyes
I cannot fathom a life
without hearing
his laugh
I exist with him
his gentle soul
I am home
in his arms,
for he is art
and I am found.