The Wall

I remember the butterflies fluttering in my belly when, on our very first date, you sat down next to me on the sofa in the lounge.

I remember the peacefulness that blanketed us as we shared a turkey sandwich at a creaky outside table and worked on the Sunday crossword.

I remember the emptiness I felt as I sat alone on the cold tile floor of our hotel bathroom and realized you meant more to me than I to you.

But I can’t recall the sensation of your breath hovering near my mouth. I don’t remember the texture of your lips or the movement of your tongue. When I close my eyes, neither a feeling nor a want stirs. And I have tried many times. But for everything that I can remember, your kiss I cannot.