There are certain trinkets that remind me of you.
Some small details I notice that pull me through.
That picture you sent from the gym—you in pink
The dress with red lips: yes it’s of you I think.

There’s the white backless dress, the line of your neck
My heart fluttered, do you remember? Frankly I was a wreck.
I think of you now, yes it’s you, each and every day
Hoping you’ll perhaps show and glance my way.

Your blue top, blue dress, another vision to treasure.
Your charm and beauty is impossible to measure.
The way you sizzle in see-thru black lace!
Can you feel my eyes? Does my desire leave any trace?

From a distance I send my gentle quivering touch,
The words of my poem—I know it’s not much.
I wish for you to be happy and free,
I wish for you to be the perfect woman you should be.

I sip my coffee, glance askance, and hope you’ll come in,
To the place where we met, amongst all the clattering din.
I wait heart skipping. I sip. I look about. I ponder.
There are so many girls, but my heart does not wander.

You are pretty. You are special. Yes you are my dear.
The thing you are not? Well you just are not here.
So my heart remains empty: a vacuous place!
All these trinkets serve to sting—sting like mace.