You were somehow tangled in my memory.

As if when we mingled then pulled apart to continue in our own directions, there was some of you left in me. At times I wonder if you ever notice the parts of me that feel like they are still with you (you haven't returned them). I will see myself suddenly separate watching from above, and realize some of my daily motions are the result of your imprint upon me. How you taught me little things and I integrated them into who I was, we taught each other and often learned unconsciously. I still find strands of your hair in bed.

It would catch me at small moments, these filaments you in me. Knowing even though I am more than the sum of those around me past and present, they are still an integral part. Sometimes it hurts makes me smile sets me floating distant. I have carried these traces of you far away to places you have never been yourself, and likewise you have taken those parts me through your own travels, our influences spreading secretly in this manner diminished.