Tiger Stripes

My right knee remembers the time I attempted to ride a scooter with you,

Whizzing past affronted pedestrians, until we crash landed on the pavement.

Below, my calf still begrudges the permanently unfinished stag,

That was to keep the mangy black dog on your forearm company.

There’s wisdom in relenting to the persistence of baking burns,

From our (mostly) fruitful summer experiments.

I have similarly made peace with the distinct tan line on my wrist,

From the bracelet you presented me with four years ago.

Occasionally, my left ear tingles as it is reminded,

Of the shared pair of earrings we paraded around, for exactly a week.

Perhaps, once the memories of their origins wither away,

These scars will lose their resolve to adorn my skin.

 In the meantime, I’ll avoid the painful view in my bathroom mirror,

While I bid goodbye to the last hickey on my collar bone.

 

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