It does not last the day

It barely lasts the shower

 

It clings behind your earlobes

like the salted skin forgotten

inside a pistachio’s shell

You never wipe it all away

Still damp

you waltz

around my pillow

From your breath’s vibrations

and your throaty

nearness I wake  

 

You never spread it evenly

You wish it could be controlled

like graffiti

Like flicked paint and water droplets

You are so careful

with that surface tension
The scent

warm and expanding

pressurizes then punctures

my lungs

 

This is the only grooming

you do excitedly