Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Linger

You just left for the airport an hour ago. Where was it you were off to? New York? Philly? I forget. It's 5 o'clock in the morning and I'm much too foggy to think clearly. But I roll over, and there you are. Not in the physical sense, mind you. It's on my pillow case and in my hair. It's on your favorite football t-shirt that I'm sleeping in this very minute. It's on my skin. I can smell you. That combination of soap, cologne and yes, even perspiration that makes you uniquely you.

It's that little part of you that I get to keep until you come home. It makes your leaving just a bit more bearable. So tonight, I'm going to jump in to bed, sheets unwashed, football t-shirt on, and wrap myself up in you.

I told you you'd never get that shirt back.

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