When He Sleeps

When he sleeps I drink him in. Not for too long in case I'm caught staring. His lips are soft and very enchanting, it takes all my might not to start pouncing. His sculpture is strongly defined, sprinkled with scars showing he never hides. complimented by his beard which is perfectly trim, his nostrils play gently, flaring out and in. His hair trophies his younger years, the parties, the fights, the love, the hurt. Which have all made my love stand proud on this earth. His eyes flicker, he frown as his mind travels through unwanted ground. I hear him groan in pain and fear but stroke his head until he's peacefully clear. As he sleeps I drink him in until the time comes for him to awaken again.