The Piercing

I’m looking at pictures of you, and
I don’t recognize the person I see.

I don’t recognize that smile, or that
hairstyle, or your sweatshirt, or the
way you do your make-up. When
did you become a stranger to me?

I’m confused by how it happened,
but I know it had to happen. We
aren’t kids anymore, and maybe
that’s all we had in common: just
a background, a story, and stories
can’t last forever. They have to have
some kind of ending. Is this ours?
Is this it? Are we no longer destined
to be friends for life?

Are you ready to let me go?

Maybe you already have.