Something Lost

It was just a fleeting moment,
it always is.
I could trace the line of her lips back to where it all began.
"It's a rare gift." she said while wetting the stamps.
Perforated edges against pink.
She was depressed, I could tell.
It showed by the heavy beating of her heart.
There was a story being told by the necklace of congealed memories,
leaning heavy on her posture.
She sure was depressed.
I told her there is nothing as real as where the grasp fails.
She did not believe me.
Much later, as the lights of a commercial sign were humming our song,
I had regrets.