Shared privacy

Ages ago, when I first 
knew you well, we 
remarked upon it 
like show and tell.
And you knew me
well, as well, back
then. 

The consensus was that
such eerily guesscient bullseyes
were a pleasurable affirmation
of wot and ken like kith and kin,
despite neither were ours to claim,
or begin to explain such things
being known, without tell,
without hint, just caught
unthrown. 

A pure pleasure of knowing,
of being known. Or of coming
to be, in our then-such case. If this
changes, or never was true (I don't think
I misrecall or misrecognize you, but) know
I know this: shared history has
consensual elements. It is shaped 
it is made, and it never was faked. 
So I'd be loathe to bugger up your
mystique by my on-point wild stab
of what you'd prefer be kept hid and
close, on the sly. No more than 
implied at most - where I err 
by true aim unpredictable, please 
- shoot me that look. I'll shut up, 
shift aim and not even allude 
down that path again, 'til you 

bring it up. I honor your keep 
as I honor your give, now 
you know the look, now right? 
Don't be coy. You could do it 
sometimes in your sleep