Kisses

There's no way of knowing that the kiss will be the last one we ever have so it's routine, pedestrian; like we do it all the time and it's as easy as breathing so, very little emphasis is put on our lips touching for the briefest of moments.
I have on a pair of jeans and my favourite t-shirt, an old Lakers throwback that's past its sell-by-date. She's wearing one of my shirts and nothing else. Her eyes are still tired because we just woke up and her hair is a bit mussed up though she pulls off looking cute in the face of a hard night’s sleep.
I'm focused on getting breakfast on and bringing it back upstairs but she stops me as I'm about to get off the bed, holds my hand, pulls me closer. For the briefest moment I feel her lips, their soft caress a contrast to the rough day I'm about to have but I don't know that.
I make a beautiful breakfast, finish, and leave her drinking juice whilst watching morning TV.
I didn't know it at the time but I never really said goodbye.