A Single Hair

There is a single black hair
On your left nipple.
It curls coyly at about
8 o’clock areola time.
You used to plug it.
Over and over
Embarrassed by its imperfection.
I, however, have taken up a job
As your body hair sculptor
I shave your legs and armpits,
I even groom
Your puffy, fluffy hamster
Your nipple hair
Remains untouched, though.
I adore its humanity.
I suck it, lick it,
For hours I will caress it
And the mound
It thrives on.
Your warm breath,
Your soft purrs
Reveal to me:
You don’t hate it
Quite as much anymore.