In-between beats

This day dawns darkly and sad I sit
remembered touches flitting through mind
and chafed remains of fiery kisses laid light
on lips that have forgotten their purpose, thinking
that consonants carry conclusions fit for their existence.
No.
I wish it were not so, that tips of tentative fingers
lie still in ruthless rest from gentle gestures of affection
and that soft eyes brimming with the caresses of worn practice
fall sternly or dash away in panicked escape from gazes
too much to be friendly, too less to be love.
But
the taking of moments for posterity and shredded records
thread through thin time and its slow drip into later, perhaps
later
Never quite
becoming
now.