Another

I want you
on nights when the sky 
catches up with the morning moon
and my hands are weak 
from prying your words
out of the doorjamb. 

I awoke last night
with the mist of your fingers on my wrist. 
I only remembered your smile. 

You ignited me. 
You looked at me
and didn't turn away
and I wasn't afraid. 

“Whatever you are doing 
is the most beautiful thing.” 

Someone finished painting
the hallways white last summer. 
Maybe they are your excuse. 

Did you forget? 
Do you want to?
Is my name still written
in the dust
behind your house? 

Do you still hide poems 
in your palm before the bell? 

When was the last time 
I kissed you in a dream?