It’s time for my yearly visit. It’s a pleasure to meet you. (Again). A 

Boney hand with bright pink fingernails slowly extends itself towards

Mine, as if this was our first interaction. As if we were strangers. 

The air reeks of expired perfume. I sit on the couch, and watch TV,

But no one seems to mind. Not that anyone could hear it, or see it

Anyways. It’s time for my yearly visit. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

I smile big, like the one I saw on the TV last time I was here, and 

Wrap my arms around your frail little body, careful not to squeeze 

Too tight, I wouldn’t want to strangle a stranger. My eyes sparkle

With excitement, waiting patiently for you to recognize me. They 

Told me it always takes a while. It’s time for my yearly visit. I gulp

My final breath of fresh air and walk through the door. This time, 

There is no sparkle, only a tear that begins to make its lonely path

down my cheek. I take the corner of my sleeve and wipe it away 

Before you see it, I wouldn’t want to cry in front of a stranger.

I want you to know, I’m sorry for being mean to the old woman

Who was living in your body, and pretending to be you. Maybe

I Should’ve hugged her tighter. Maybe I should’ve visited her longer. 

Maybe I Should’ve turned off the stupid TV. I love you, stranger.