I love the slight hair on the back of your neck, that stands ***** with the sensations I bring.
I love the vascular skin of your roots, that shows brightest not when walking, but resting.
I love the contortion your ear undergoes anytime I bring a smile upon your crystalline face.
I love the way the tips of your front-most hair gives a curl outward, as if rushing away in rebellion.

All men who meet you could say they love your smile, your hair, your eyes, and the remaining plethora of options, but when you look in the mirror to see your hair, I want you to envision me. When a smile forms on your lips, I want you to look back to me. When your putting socks onto your feet and you see it's skin, I want you to recall me.  When you brush a hand over the back of your neck, I want you to think of me.
I want to be the indelible love that floats in your subconscious, leaving tiny imprints over every portion of you.
In every small thing you do, I want to be so lively in your mind that you recall me with every action.