Aftertaste of your name

I like the aftertaste of your name
lingering on my tongue,
unsoured and unfermented.
The way the syllables sound,
poetic, almost melodic
and long after the vibrations
have stopped resounding,
it still resonates,
its redolent notes invigorating
and conjuring the afterimages
of your delicate and frail being
beneath those carelessly worn gossamer garments,
in muted shades,
nothing too loud,
save for your buoyant spirits,
and that bold ruby pendant
worn so nonchalantly.
The aftertaste of your name,
those four letters
each caressed reverently,
and spoken like a prayer
every single time,
lingers on my tongue.
And it is my favourite flavor.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Your name here