Sometimes, I feel like a liar when I talk about her 
because, you see, no one knew we were a we.
Everyone knew about her laugh,
too big for her mouth, but no one knew
what it sounded like muffled against my teeth,
how I swallowed it down, her giggle tickling my throat
until we were both on the floor laughing so hard it hurt-
kisses forgotten. Even her memory feels like a lie,
like we never really loved, kissed, touched, 
and I suppose this is the consequence of secrets.