Invisible

I end up showing her
the next day.
She runs to me in the morning,
complaining about how sick
she’d been
but her lies are barely covered
by a thin, thin sheet.
I don’t tell her I can see
the love (hate?) bites
that show when her scarf shifts.

I pull out the paper and words,
pass it to her wordlessly.
She reads it and grins, giggling.
“Oh my god, Jacki, you have a
secret admirer!”
I giggle back like I’m young
without the secret
which weighs me down every
day I live.
Eve passes the paper back.