Looking at photos of strangers.

Looking at photos of strangers
whose names I know
used to know
and you called me acca
and you meant too much to me.
It's so easy to love a child
when they love you
and they are yours
though I was sometimes jealous
that you were really hers.
And i'm looking at her pictures
from when she was with you,
I'm sorry I didn't come
I was sorry but now I'm not so sure
I'm so removed
You all match so well.
And I didn't recognise you, you know.
You've grown so much
while I was away
and so now I don't want to go back
I don't want to look
because however things drift and times change and people aren't the same
I can hold the memory and try to forget the drifting
and the jealousy.
So I'm afraid to go back
Because it can never be the same.
But it's worse looking at photos
because I'll never know if somewhere in there it's still you
and maybe I can still match too.