The Stranger

You do not know me,

We are not friends.

Not enough between us,

To try and mend,

The chasm between,

Here and there,

Will never bridge,

To keep me here.

When you were small,

And I was smaller,

You were then, as now,

An infrequent caller.

Your attention,

A fragmented thing,

First not at all,

Then everything.

Then suddenly,

Withdrawn for me,

Imagined

Happy family.

Then peace at last,

Confusion gone.

You pulled away,

Because we were wrong.

No answers left,

No reason why,

To help me understand,

To cry?

But seeing that her,

Heart was broken,

No word from you,

No simple token.

A slick dismissal,

To tear her up,

Quiet and gone,

And so fucked up.

But healed at last,

As time will do,

No longer children,

No word from you.

Occasionally,

A fragment shared,

A glimpse of you,

To make them care.

A distant memory,

Forming true,

But great distrust,

Now seeded through.

And then one day,

An olive branch,

Extended for,

Another chance.

All adults now,

In different ways,

My map can't,

Permeate the maze.

The lines of you,

Are sharp; they hurt.

Never at ease,

Always alert.

Not grown apart,

Just never close,

I can admit,

There is no hope.

Not wanting tools,

But inclination.

A train that won't stop,

At that station.

And always there,

That knowledge too,

A disappearing act,

Is due.

Just a hunch,

That it may not last,

Too tight you clutch,

On to your past.

I'm letting go,

And sweet relief.

To finally tell the truth,

And breathe.

Just another stranger;

A passer-by.

No need to wave,

Best not to lie.