When did I last kiss with my whole being?
I don’t remember.
Why don’t I remember?
I chose badly. Elaborate safety followed.
Memory is poor and vast.
My question slights the present and embarrasses the past.
My tongue was hurting. I bit it accidentally;
I don’t remember when—and I fear
it should have stopped hurting by now.
Tongue! Large in the mouth. Hidden by smiles and secrets.
Her tongue is what I thought of then.
That’s how we got here,
contemplating a heart broken
in a poem with words
which will never be spoken.