I enjoy the peculiar scent of his body — head to feet
the aroma of his sweat — tastes of nostalgia
remaining of his skin on the sheets

smell of his hair at the moment he unties it
androgenic hair he has never, ever shaved

the colors of his tattoos
and the shape of his moles

the delicacy of the tip of his fingers with
perfectly trimmed nails over my face

and more so than anything else
the taste of his tongue after wine
when it comes into contact with my teeth, my lips.