It starts when we kiss,
and my hands start to wander, 
so that my curious fingers can play
innocent games of tag
on his shoulders
and run rampant through the valley
on the nape of his neck 
and tousle the tips of his hair. 

Smile, and dive in deeper
until my fingers dig hollows,
spelunk in the breadth of his mane
and somehow manage
to come out unscathed
and willing to slide down
the curve of the crest of his ears. 

My thumbs scour an expanse 
of contoured cheekbone and jawline
and take in every scar, nick, and imperfection
because I can appreciate 
the trips and tracks made by tears. 

I know the position
of hinged lips and adjacent noses
and all the feelings of adventure it disposes,
but do you think he supposes
that I didn't take notice...?

I do these things for a reason. 
Because past experience has taught me well. 
These are the parts of him that I'll miss
when we don't know each other quite like this.