Stranger

//I feel this needs a little bit of background info for those that don't know me, and that is simply this; my memory might as well be non-existent.//

These fingers that I type with,

Words pouring from a mind

I call my own,

Are quite well known.

I like to keep my nails

Long;

It has been a few months

(Was it weeks?)

Since they had been painted,

And then the fingers I painted with

Were well known.

(I thought there was a scar there?)

I remember 

Painting them years ago

(I was quite well known)

With designs 

Such a young mind could make.

These fingers 

Pound at the keys;

I should let up,

I think

(On myself?)

For they are battered

(No,

The stranger)

And it is cold 

(Her gaze is absent)

As these nails glide on the ice.

My gaze(her gaze,

hidden)

Is tired,

As tired as these fingers;

They have known so many 

That are now strangers

(For my mind,

It whirls about)

And long forgotten

Until they are renewed once more

     stranger.

Cast your shadows,

Woman of my time

And girl of my youth,

For my fingers might know you

(Introduce me to your friend!)

But my mind cannot recognize,

Only remember,

Pound at the keys,

With the keys(let me

     in

to learn who you are).

Surely you know 

Fleeting glances on the street,

Gazing at the man

In the torn jacket,

The girl with a black coffee.

I know fleeting glances

At strangers such as these,

And how I long to meet them,

For each time I see them again

(I remember once when you were ten...

     I do not.

But tell it 

A

Gain)

I ponder who they are

(These stories give me false memories,

For I am a stranger to me)

And how these fingers thought of them.