he used to hate coming over
after I had just come home
from work with the brunt of a
long day torn between the
flesh of my hands because
I  would do nothing after
cleaning up but lather my
hands in tea tree oil and my
face in organic honey and let
them marinade into my pores
and cleanse whatever filth
had snuck between my
vulnerable skin. He hated
the strong stench of tea
tree oil, earthy mixed with
a peppermint incense that
seemed to linger long after
I'd wash my hands and
lotion them with Jojoba oil.
He disliked the honey on
my face because when he
pecked my cheek hello
his lips tasted for me so
surely that he'd crawl back
to, just for another taste.