I think of her often but
I only sometimes let her know.
She colors her lips purple
and kisses cigarettes, and leaves
purple marks on her glasses.
I know she thinks of me,
At times.
Maybe when she has wiped her color
and she is holding a cup,
maybe she sees me
in the refection of herself
in clear tea.
And when it is late at night
and she has stepped out in cold,
to smoke her last cigarette
and I am asleep.
Possible, that she thinks of me
and I dream about,
only her.