Discretion

I.
Discreet.
I keep it hidden
Under cloth
Turned inside
Careful not to be too obvious
About the discretion.
Missing my metal tourniquets,
Dreading heat.
They used to be ephemeral
They faded with the moons.
No longer.
Don’t linger any longer.
They linger long enough.
Now a roadmap of shame.
Kept hidden so no one discovers
Where it leads or where it came from.
II.
And then one day she asked to see.
I thought she’d forgotten.
“Looking much better,” she said.
I thought she’d forgotten.
She can’t remember and still love.
It doesn’t work that way.
She must have forgotten
and only just then remembered.
Else, how could she look at me,
hug me every day.
She had to have forgotten
or she wouldn’t so effortlessly invite, involve, embrace.
There’s no doubt she’s forgotten.
….Or was it I who forgot to remember?
7.27.03/5.00am

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