It’s easy to imagine what could have been
when we never had a chance, cut off
by time, miles, and circumstance.
The snippets we got delicious melt-on-
the-tongue morsels we savored, greedy
& decadent: we snatched as much
as we could from the sinking ship.

Our love-making nothing of the sort—
spilled over lust scampering up stairs, hands
groping, probing each other’ secrets
just to feel their slippery textures.
When we fucked it was against the clock,
hit snooze until we couldn’t any longer,
swallowed each other like pelicans.

We hear lopped-off echoes of could-have-beens:
ghost stories in haunted rooms, warmth, tender kisses,
sputtering words, searching eyes, giving our sweat
a chance to dry, to feel the coolness of your skin.
I kept your beauty my dark secret, even from you.
You called me dreamy but this, too, an indictment
of the disappearing phantom in your eyes—not me.

Now you’re far & your memory crumbles
like Rome, reduced to lore, reduced to campfire
stories told between luminous mustaches mouths.
But I still think of my T-shirt you stole, brazen,
staring directly at me as you shoved it in your purse,
a memento, a trinket you wear naked around the house,
braless & shameless & utterly without regret.