he tastes of
fresh coffee and old memories
mixed together with
swallowed sentiments
that neither of us
is brave enough
to say.

i have a lover
      tender and innocent,
who tucks in his shirt
and brushes my arm
        when he walks by.
he is passionate and giving,
listens to classical music
and caresses my cheek
         when he kisses me.
i think i love him so
because of these things
          and also because
*he is the opposite of me