What are we? Who are we? To each other. We are no sexual partners, nor friends with benefits. Familiar gestures etched into corners of the mind. Our brains stored away halting breath, palpitant heart, goosebumps flesh, smell of heat, taste of cum. Memories did not fade away. They are and remain images, sensations of our past. Present time, what names do we call ourselves? We are no friends since we can't share private moments of loneliness, temporary sadness or spontaneous happiness. We are not physically side by side. No coffee chatting. No meals eating together. No midnight calling. We penciled our schedule, easily erased and replaced by other necessities. What identification markers do we label ourselves? We are no lovers after the novelty wore off, after the honeymoon ended. Romantic dream of a life-together lost its appeals when reality demands crashed down: job security, family obligations, financial safety, ... Emotional support came and went away, distancing by intermittent phone calls. Banality of greetings, daily inquiries (eating, sleeping, health) felt punctuality at holidays and birthdays. Anniversary did not renew initial bond. I know what we are not. We are not strangers. I know what we are. We are just … no longer.
