Blasts from the past

Jill Y is one of those sentimental girlies. She remembers what she was wearing when we first met though that's not too hard to do, considering all prison uniforms are the same. She still has the glass from the first drink she threw over me. To this day, I'm still not sure how I offended her. If it's a crime to ask to sleep with a woman and her sister, than I suppose I'm somewhat guilty. The other day, she showed me the first poem I composed for her and I must admit, a part of me did became a bit nostalgic: