Pure.When they look at him, the word seems to have been just invented to describe him. There is just

Pure.When they look at him, the word seems to have been just invented to describe him. There is just something about him, about the way he looks at them, about the way he talks, the scent of his skin, that makes them thing on freshly washed blankets and white flowers opening at dawn. Every man he smiles to can feel it: the pureness radiating from him like sunlight. They know, by instinct, that the are before the purest thing they will ever find. Pure, innocent… an angel.They’re wrong.He’s not an angel. Neither is he a devil, he’s just a boy who knows all there is to know about love and being loved. Falling in love with him is as easy as catching a cold on a rainy winter. He just looks at them, they look at him, and they’re lost. They can’t explain why their hearts beat so fast, why their hands sweat, why their whole bodies respond to him, but they do. And they go towards him like a sunflower goes to the sun, and they make love to him and enjoy pure happiness for a while. But it never lasts. He was born to fall in love, and on time, he falls in love again with someone else, who also falls in love with him. But there is no heartbreak inside the kind of dream they’re living. They are freed and move on, and when they look back to that time when they loved a man they feel pride and happiness and a deep satisfaction, knowing that, for a while, they loved and were loved in return, in the purest form of love. -- source link

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