me again.
I remember our first kiss.
Excited children,
wrapped in the warmth
of cheap apple cider
and a thin polyester blanket.
Fumbling with each other.
Unlearning our shame.
I don’t remember our last.
At some point it all becomes
so forgettable.
A kiss –
As you leave for work –
As you come in the door –
Over a shoulder –
Passing in a doorway –
Goodnight –
Good morning.
Uninteresting embraces in the
background of our life.
Until the last kiss
isn’t replaced by the next
last kiss, it hangs
in time. In the space
where we were and
nothing comes after.
And by the time you realise
that was the last kiss,
you don’t remember
where you were,
what you said.
Was it joyful and light?
Passionate, fingers gripping skin?
Achingly sad?
Loving and tender?
Whatever it was,
it shouldn’t have been forgettable.
It shouldn’t have felt uninteresting.
It was the most important
kiss of your life and now
it’s
gone.
I remember our first kiss.
I wonder if you also forgot
our last.