We have no memories together, just bits of tangled up conversation,
tossed around words, couched with hints of something better to come,
always just out of reach, transitory and so fragile.
We have no memories of making love, of lust exploding into unchained bodies, wet with sex. We simply run past each other not even certain of what we want to say, before we run out of words to say it.
We have no memories of the shared moment of a casual caress
sitting at our favorite table in the nearly empty restaurant, the waiter leaving us alone, knowing our routine, like an old friend.
We have no memories of walking the crowded streets, the store windows overflowing with glitz while we shop in the market for dinner, making certain it would require no effort to make.
We have no memories of the fleeing hour while the early December afternoon changes into evening as I watch you undress, slipping naked into bed, goose bumps cover your body, your nipples firm.
We have no memories of love in the dark that call us back again and again. Of waking up late the next morning, sitting by the large window, drinking a third cup of coffee, the silence between us not a distraction.
We have no memories together because words can only take you so far in the end.
Copyright © Steve Zak | Year Posted 2018
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