Kieran Louis Ronaldo Loveday

Sunglasses in the club,

Hat strangling tight curls.

Oil embedded into creases of his palms.

Rubber bracelets are now a part of him,

Stained from mechanical muck.

Muscular arms,

bony hips,

and those lips!

His fingertips kiss my cheeks,

The same fingertips that build art.

Talent surrounds him.

His work uniform is a cocktail of garage smells.

His cars wake the neighbourhood

As he leaves in the morning,

I love you, I'll tell him,

As he tucks me in.