Acquaintances

acq
Things turn around
and your face looks
like a stranger’s
and no,
I cannot fathom that the
words slipping off your
tongue are yours.
And the way your
mouth curls into
a smile, a phantom
of what it used to be.
But things turn around
and people grow old
and older, until
we are nothing but
acquaintances,
mutual friends,
being introduced to
ourselves in
the mirror,
once again.

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