Spring Rolls and Sativa

My mind moves against me. The memories dance and hide in the scents we once spun together.

“Should we get Thai?” “You wanna hit this?” “I hate cleaning the litter box.”

You always looked beautiful reflected in the mirror that sits on your dresser. From each corner hung necklaces that just covered the small notes and photos tucked into the frame. The sweet scent of roses drifted around the room from the small dabs on your shoulder. Eventually, you’d catch me staring.

“Hey.” “Ready to go, Baby Bear?” “Just about.”

Months later we’d meet at a Mexican food restaurant somewhere between your place and mine. “Love was never the problem.” Calendars and clocks plus waiting rooms are always so drab. “Yeah, but what if we… then maybe?”