Without Bait

I am a hook without bait.
Void of the prize of a plastic
pink lure, I sway in the water,
pointed and metallic.

I can slide through
the skin of your lip effortlessly,
so effortlessly, transiently,
creating what you hope to be
a temporary adornment.

But, like all the others,
with the now-healed spot
shining subtlety, a mere dot,
(Just a past mistake, honey,
Only a silly mistake),
you’ll thrash wildly,
throwing your head this way
and that until you’re free.
Free of me.

And you’ll swim away,
your silver tail glinting
in the watery sunlight.
The pinprick I left behind,
already starting to fade.