Not a Lover

I turned towards you
like you were my sun.
I kept your secrets like an oath,
like an airhead.
I let you in below my consciousness,
shames and pleasures standing
like mud seeping into a ditch.
You entered the trenches of my brain matter
and vacated my life without a word.
You left your mark
like a flowering bruise,
purple and yellow,
asters and goldenrod
on my heart and in my mind,
not a lover,
but a friend,
a comrade,
a spy.