I do know your name.
I’ve seen it written on ribbons clenched in birds’ claws.
I have said your name.
With a smile in my voice, to my confidant.
The ribbons fly by.
Another dimly lit morn looking out to the dawn.
The waves are too high.
The sound moves around my head as it haunts.
I have touched your cloth.
A slight of the hand upon first introduction.
I could smell your cloth.
In layers of people through layers of action.
My fingerprint stays.
The cuff that you wore must bear an indention.
Our story, it plays.
Independent in nature from thoughts to execution.
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