I gladly remember you wore tan slacks and a green halter top the time I brought you a single rose, it’s petals as red as your lips after we kissed. We weren’t lovers yet, there hadn’t been time, but I recall the almost accidental evening we corrected that, the white negligee you put on later, looking at me in the mirror as you lit a cigarette I envied.  

And I conjure images of more time filled with more good things, until I recollect you saying we had no future, now conveniently forgetting why, and why I took your word. I still can see us kissing, but you’re not completely there.