His eyes reflect the sea, with hints of green and love. Such soft features for a tough man, I see his golden hair fall to his ears. It shapes his chiseled face and kissable lips. They are full of sweet nothings as he speaks to me. His body thin and lean, I can hold him close. His hands rough and cracked from labor, they are so gentle while holding mine. His veins lick the surface of his pale skin. A few simple tattoos and facial hair that grew. He is far from simple, growing up in Arizona. That’s my man.