On a Certain Cocktail
 
That ginger-lime scent
that sticks on your clothes,
your sweat,
your cheeks
that I always want brushed up
against my own,
whether through the accident
within a daily embrace,
or the times I fall asleep
tactically creased within your arms.
 
The tang of your mouth
seeping sweet beer and
that earthy after taste of cigarettes,
how it is soothing
whenever it reaches my lips,
rendering all brands of reprieve.
 
All this, a honey fabrication,
like the perfect mix
of almonds and apricots
in a hundred glasses of amaretto,
 
I soak in
all of your details
 
that so readily blend
with mine.