You hold it, have it,
but do not hang it
over me. You tuck it
away in a careful corner
of your heart, remember
that it's there
but hide it as one of
the many promises we
made to each other.

You keep it so I cannot touch it
cannot look at it
or feel its cold reminder.
You soften the sting,
hidden from the world-
myself even-

You saw my weeds
and you
gathered them,
bouqueted them,
owned them,
watched them bloom
and for that I will always
love you.