there, against my cheek
Against my cheek he placed a kiss–
a lingering moment of bliss–
just there, full and gentle, his chin
with morning beard brushing my skin–
all stubble and flannel in this
still-dark goodbye. Breakfast I’d miss
with him, leaving coffee for his
crossword, taking a kiss the wind
against my cheek
couldn’t shift. The ghost of his lips’
remain years later after this
last morning, press again when
the barber angles scissors to trim
my temple, just there where his hand rests
against my cheek.
Those last three lines leave me breathless. Great combination of imagery and sound.
Thank you–I appreciate the feedback!
Mentally erase the apostrophe after “lips,” Too many last minute changes, angry and distracted today.
I love this. I’m not sure if he’s dead or alive but it doesn’t matter, I still got chills.
So good, especially that “his hand” could be taken either way.