You used to speak foreign words from a citizen mouth.

You stand before me, a refugee.

I've kissed those lips before, haven't I?

You are not - were not - a stranger here.

I correct myself, standing tall and eyeing you carefully.

Did we love each other at all?

Perhaps I was fooled, dipping into the pot I had no business being near. 

You being the pot, of course. 

There was nothing but air as I drew my hand back and gasped.

What did I expect, roses to materialize out of nothingness?

I regret nothing, I remind myself as I check your passport

for a stamp I could recognize. 

Nothing there. No stamps I know. 

You stand before me, an outcast.

You are now a foreign mouth to me, speaking citizen words.