the kiss

I no longer remember your kiss.
I can see your lips, thick and soft.
I know firm pressure and the taste of coffee,
but I can't remember what it feels like.

I no longer remember the smell of your hair.
I can see your curls, thick and soft.
I know the wet pillowcase and the scent of fresh,
but I can't remember what it smells like.

I no longer remember what the poem read.
I can see the paper, white half-sheet and blue hotel crest.
I know you told me that you love me,
but I can't remember why.

I no longer remember the touch of your hand
the tight grip of fingers

I no longer remember the kiss of forehead, the nuzzle of nose

I cannot see your eyes.
It is dark.

I lean in.
I cannot see your eyes.