The scent of Philipp Morris cigarettes
and instant black coffee with sugar in your hair first thing in the morning.
Your arms smell like lemon and the sun
and a long day of work and a long night of love and laughter and fights.
Your neck is just like leather and rum
and roughness and getting drunk and nothing else mattered.
Your hugs are like green tea after dinner and red bean bread
and pink afternoons with the dogs barking and the kids running.
But my favourite of all…
Your lips…they taste like sweet warm steamed rice and home
and thunderstorms on a summer night and grass
and all of the pretty things we ever had.