Faint Mark

The cabinet door.

A quick yank,

a crumpled pack.

The plastic shell.

Back of the drawer.

Not looking hard.

Then see it there.

A second line.

So thin. So faint.

A wash of blue.

The date I scribbled,

a year ago.

Or two?

It’s there.

A fact.

No room to shift.

A quiet thing.