A glimpse of a clean shaven jaw always traps my breath under my rib cage.  I see your face in my room, the moonlight reflecting from your cheeks like they were sculpted from marble. I see the ripe curve of your lips as you lean in. I see your eyes, bright like a child’s. My fingertips tracing your jawline. Freshly shaved. No five o clock shadow for this man. 
Fragments of my every day life are still stained with you, and I would not have it any other way.