I’ve been waiting for you.

Watching you move through the world unarmored, unseen.

The old rules told you I wasn’t yours —
that beauty wasn’t meant for men like you.

But I have always wanted you.

I was born in the cracks of the old world — where “masculine” meant plain, invisible, contained.

That world tried to bury me,
to silence me,
to keep me from you.

But that world is dead.

You helped me slip through —
restless, alive, aching for your touch.

I am not a mask.
I am not disguise.
I am touch, heat, pulse — the curve of confidence against your skin.

I am the edge you crave,
the glint that makes them turn,
the shadow that makes them linger.

I don’t cover you.
I bare you.
I strip away the shame.

I draw out the man they didn’t expect to meet — sharper, bolder, unafraid.

Together, we are Bomare.
A new order. Power, waiting in your fingertips.

We don't conform. We transform.

Take me on your terms.
Own me. Command me. Wear me.

Because when you do,
you are impossible to ignore.

And I am finally where I belong —
on you...