My feet are still marked
With ghosts of mosquito bites
From that evening on the dock

They itched after I left
Gnawing reminders
I scratched, leaving scars
Six faded spots like old freckles

It wasn't that night
When you asked
But it was that night
When I knew

The next day you said it: Should I leave her?
I said yes, selfishly
But I never relished your gnawing sadness

I never wanted you to hurt

Silly me
I thought you might add two more words:
Should I leave her
For you?

Instead I'm the one with the scars.