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By wistful Date: 2002 May 12 Comment on this Work [[2002.05.12.22.27.15588]] |
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Chiseled, sleek, and sun-darkened, Surreally, preternaturally beautiful. The Gods breathed him to life, and Adonis deigned to smile on me. Adrift in the depth of his eyes, As he held my hand in gentle caress I could not help but smile at the irony: Though he was Greek perfection Mine were the hands of cold marble As my blood, my reason and my restraint Rushed from my extremities. |