He, is an artist. He, is a work of art. He, is drawn in wide strokes of paint and delicate lines of ink. He is; magnificent, a magnum opus, incomplete and begging to be finished. He is covered in splotches of pastel, shades of pink across his skin, shades of bruised under his eyes, tints of apathy.
He is, a lump of diamond, hard and unyielding, covered and smudged and dirtied by the charcoal dust he rubs on his skin to dull his shine and hide in plain sight. He, is dangerously attractive.