He basks in the masculinity of his being
He is made perfect by his blemishes and callous hands
He knows she expects everything of him and is not afraid of exceeding those or falling short
All because he lives in his own skin
His touch is gently attacking
His desire is passionately pure
His care is protectively trusting
He lives in his own skin
He leads her through the trials of life
And follows after the fragileness of her heart
He understands her every move
And yet he misinterprets her words alone
He lives in his own skin
He is the armor to her body when she is small and weak
He is the enduring patience within her when she summons to anxieties within
He does not crave attention through the haughtiness of his demeanor
He splendors in the attractiveness of his overwhelmingly large and bleeding heart
He lives in his own skin
He is her prince when life is perfect and all things magical exist
He is in her conscious mirage of heaven, even when she is wide awake
He holds on to her heart when she wants it to herself
He feeds her dreams when reality becomes a trance
He lives in his own skin
His mind is his own
His life bleeds through hers
His guise is his own
Transparent in her eyes
He lives in his own skin
