My Sun-Bronzed Angel

Everything about you is soft,
And yet your hard lines are nothing but pure masculinity.
An object of desire,
with the appearance of an angel.

Your skinning is glowing,
As the sun ascends its slow dance across your face.
Your lips are soft,
As delicate as a new spring rose petal.

Between your sun-kissed locks,
And the aristocratic slope of your nose,
Your dark eyes are hidden,
Shrouding any evidence of your wicked playfulness.

The slender column of your neck,
Beckons my mouth closer.
My hands eager to glide across the length of your arms,
trailing down further.

As I lay my eyes on my sun-bronzed angel,
Contemplating the vision of beauty before me.
I'd like nothing more than to unbutton the pin-striped barrier,
That blocks my vision of what lies beneath.