It was the day of

perfect lovers:

pretty girls and gonna-make-it-boys

all so arranged in their

roses and chocolates.

(If he had been there it

would

have been so awkward

like the camera flashed too soon

and we would be caught

together

guilty in the act of being

too close.)

It was the day of

perfect lovers:

I could only dream of his

arms again.

but then again,

I like the cold air better.