|
By Dylan Kwiatkowski Date: 2003 Apr 16 Comment on this Work [[2003.04.16.12.05.4979]] |
|
I gather every sound you leave behind, every smell, taste and sight that you graced me with; and I remember you. I can still hear you softly whispering in my ear, telling me that you love me. I take the brush that you left here, the one that still holds the smell of your hair to bed with me every night. I'm still hooked on the strawberries that you once forced me to try. I hang all your pictures above my bed so that I may wake to the sight of your face every morning. As I go through each sense in my mind I realize that there is still one missing, that being the sense of touch. Missing you with all my heart and wishing that you were near. |