Lest We Remember

I unknown to you, and you unknown to I,
Yet there exists a bond that cannot be untied.
Of the facts we never speak, but when alone silently weep,
The non-memories are our own to keep.

And this is how I think of you.

The gloom of an unloved house, not ever a home,
Full of useless nothings that think this house their own.
Boots that wear their downtrodden owner into a dirty floor
Lay themselves down, settled by the door.

And this is how they think of you.

No post today, no calls to make
Time swallows you up, moving ghostlike yet barely awake.
A long rusted solemnity breathing stale air
Sitting in the same half broken chair, without the charm or will to care.