The High Tender

”for you both once loved that silky guise that so heightened
the high tender,
the match of your (her) pink rose skin letting, no!
making your eyes glisten”

wrote those words,
asking my interrogatories,
from where did I know this truth,
this allegory?

replying lying masking mocking smothering snickering
“you, the great lover, do not remember?”

they, not realizing that I mocked myself,
my cuffed hands that authored those words,
were not so blemished to forget the
high tender
they once contained