"Do you still think of her?"

her ebony hair splayed across the 20 dollar vintage linen sheets she found at a shady store down the alley

her heavy drawling voice at nine in the morning when she snoozed her alarm for the umpteenth time

her lazy hums as she inked words across a bleached canvas, shirt cuffs all splattered yet she looked like a dream

her dimples when she twirled in her backless bottle green cocktail gown, messy updo and glittery stilletoes

her golden skin when she arched her neck exposed to the sun, glowing eyes and glistening lips

her guilty pleasure of reading mills and boon, hidden in the folds of her knock-off Kate Spade handbag

her laughter permanently etched in every crevice of my being, I lie

"no."