Girl In Every Port

Oh, the romance of long-distance relationships... the yearning, the longing, the parts being made fonder by absence (or absinthe, just to cope), the passionate letters and the excitement of phonecalls, the waiting by the inbox for a new missive, the treasured photographs and eagerly anticipated texts, the counting down of days and writing of poetry...

Sod that for a joke. I want flesh-to-flesh contact, want to taste her and smell her and feel her breath on my face, I want to be bruised by her and bitten by her and held down by her, I want to snuggle into her armpit and let my fingers map every inch of her. How many weeks to go now? This is torture. Sweet torture, but torture nonetheless! Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh!