A coke bottle, tattooed with your name

sits next to a wooden camel, an empty picture frame.

Dusty but still visible, it is the tallest thing on my shelf.

Beneath it is the book that makes me think of you.

In my room there are 14 china dolls, all silent 

vigilant protectors of my dreams. They watch me think

of you. Darling. Dear. My love. 

I bite into foreign chocolate and I can taste your lips on peanut butter cups and Hershey's chocolate

that made it's way onto British soil a stark

reminder of what is. What could be. 

I touch the keys of my computer and imagine 

your words. You. Writing to me. Speaking

the age of technology is upon us. How long would I

have waited? Would we even be? 

My heart beats staccato in my chest, a song

I imagine yours does to. My pillow is your body in

my dreams you are with me. You are holding me.

Understand I cannot, will not, forget you. 

no matter. Your smile burnt into my eyes, a toothy

grin I am here and you are there. 

I cannot write a song for you my love. I cannot say

enough, how much I love you. I love you.

Seven kisses trail my words. Cuddle. Snuggle. Hug. 

These remind me of you. A coke bottle tattooed with you name. 

Your name is on my lips. You are with me.