So many things to be idealized,

showered with love and attention.

Cheeks and shoulders,

hands and chest,

expanses of soft, well-tended skin.

But to remember to love

the forgotten, neglected,

your toes and my ankles,

my hips and that lovely curve

right above the place

where your jeans settle.

The soft peach fuzz that

isn't the soft, or the smooth,

but the 'you', the truth.

To remember to love

the tip of my nose,

as cold as it gets,

and the rough but delightfully

ticklish soles of your feet-

that's love.