Smooth ivory skin lay exposed
Moonlight dances across muscle
Over each curve and through each hollow
The image of perfection
Just out of my reach

He lies in an alcove of trees
The Weeping Willow stretching down to him
Her roots his pillow
And in the moving dancing light
His eyes search around
But never lands on me

I still my racing heart
And remember how to breathe again
One man, the symbol of perfection
Another, the icon of despair

Am I in Tartarus?
Tempted by fruits of the vine
And waters of a babbling brook
In the forms of a man?
A man I could never have

Hell this could very well be
Heaven all the same
Because the matter at heart is
I love a man of perfection
A man I can never call mine