Your Bones

I live in the city, 

of your last known address; 

wandering the same streets, 

sitting in the same coffee shops, 

and asking the same questions. 

I wonder if it's your birthday today?

Sometimes I like to think, 

that when it rains,

we both wear raincoats, 

and when it's bright, 

we both wear smiles. 

Are our smiles the same?

I wonder if you would know, 

who I was if I walked past you, 

if you'd see your flesh and bones, 

your eyes, your nose, your mouth, 

or just another passing face. 

We may share many things in this city, 

but one thing we don't share, 

is a mutual knowledge of each other's existence. 

To you, I don't even exist.