you stood across from me with your hands in your pockets
and your bow tie hung loosely around your neck,
not quite on properly
and a smirk on your face as you spoke to me.

you always said that you liked to watch me get ready
and said that it was paramount to getting ready yourself.
blue dress straps slung themselves across my shoulder
and the diamond you bought me for my birthday touched at my neck
in the same way that your breath did a few moments before.

you sat beside me, your eyes fixated on the perplex glass
and the mirror before me,
stating your adoration for the way I smelled of cognac and lilac
and the cheap cigarettes we'd smoked together
not hours beforehand.

the whiskey on your breath did nothing to dissuade me
from leaning in to kiss at the uppermost corners of your mouth
and scorn you from not tying that ******* bow tie up properly.