perhaps this 

the opportunity

to see beyond

the artist's sketch,

the tracings of 

a scarred jaw,

hidden constellations

of penciled

in freckles--

i know his body

well enough to

draw it

from memory

(if i could operate

a pencil in that way)

but now

i'll weave through

his thought corridors

previously fenced

by guilt

or known spite.

i am no longer

afraid

to look him

in the eyes.

i am no longer

awestruck

by his adonis facade.

he is 

simply

man

who need not 

a critic or admirer

but a lover.