The Faces I See

How strange.
To barely know someone.
But to be tied to them by branches on trees.

Inconsistent winds were persistent enough to blow our leaves, 

and leave us wondering who we are with each-other.
What are we doing with each-other?
What do we mean to one another?

To say 'I love you' isn't so heartfelt.
It becomes duty.
Because my name and yours.
Are penned in.
In the same book to be passed down.

Whether we travel to different landscapes.
I shall remember you by name.
And empty feeling.
Because you are not merely these letters and dates which state.
I know you.
I don't. 

I see these faces. 

That I cannot attach to spirit.
Only stories and glimpses of soul I hold on to.
That let me know,
There is a real you.

And in this.
I find it funny that.
These are the shoulders.
That would be cleaned -air dried.
Ready to take my tears.
Or perhaps watch my sorrows.
On cold mornings and dark nights.
When loss knocks on our doors.

We are both dried ink.
bearing loose condolences.
And hollow presents of, 'I'm sorry. I never knew'.

- For the connections you don't choose, 

Stay blessed everyone.

XO. 

- Hermenia