He is kind. But that kindness has come with time. He wasn’t always that way. Well… he began that way. Life stepped in, leaving hurt and scars in its wake. He lost his kindness for a season, building a shield around himself. But like a river turns rough stones in to smooth rocks, time has gently smoothed his rough edges.

He is strong. Tall and lean, his sinewy frame towers over mine. Tight muscles band to the joints in his legs and ripple just beneath the surface. Broad shoulders and long, muscular arms wrap around me, claiming me as his own. His touch is a magical combination of contained power.

He is not tame. Kind he may be, but just under the surface dwells a primal beast that is kept in check only by the brute force of his will. I know I will not be the one to bind this creature. I don’t want to. I’m simply his well in the desert that he will return again and again, thirsty for another drink.

10 thoughts on “Him

    • He’s really more of an idea. A hazy vision of the future… A faded memory of the past… it’s hard to describe. Do you ever see something, or someone in your head and have to attempt to get it or him or her down on paper?

Talk to me. Please.

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