There is a feeling of delayed familiarity
Occurring at the chance meeting of people with history.
That feeling is one that can be uncomfortable after achievement
For the haze of a shared dark past
Hinders any true connection in the present
While mutual expectations muddle the puddle further.
As funny as it may sound
The truth is sweet
But bitter is it when the reality of your wrongs
Are reflected from a condemning eye of a familiar stranger
And the feeling of unease sticks in your gullet
Not unlike a fishbone.
Guilt is awakened at the mention of a buried misdemeanor
Hopes are raised and dashed.
So in truth
There’s no possibility for such a bonding to occur
As no true arena for that connection exists
The time is past
And we’re strangers staring at images that once were.