Toothpaste
August 21, 2003
Your cup of gingerale. long since gone flat, sits on the table where you
left it. I cannot bear to dump it out, to wash away the imprint of your
lips. Not when with every breath I take every second I am awake I am
haunted by your absence.

I awoke this morning and for an instant listened for the creak of you
coming in to cuddle with me. Then my heart sank as I remembered you were
gone. Three thousand miles stretch out between us as I raise my arms to
embrace you, to hold you close to me.

Your toothbrush haunts me, taunts me.. "he's just in the other room" it
mocks. I would have slept in your bed last night but you had stripped the
sheets off and so I huddled, cuddled, arms gripped tight around a dog and a
bear.

But I know that seven weeks will soon pass, and I will be in that most
precious place of all ... your arms.