Two strands of synthetic leather braided and glued. Two strands painfully stretched and forced to go a certain way. Two slender strands with twists and turns. Smooth strands of synthetic leather, valueless, not worth the time, but ordinary. Yet I feel safe with two braided strands hugging my head. These strands of fake leather make my feel confident and strange.

Stiff and uncomfortable strands twisted so gracefully like the wind around trees as it whistles through the leaves. These strands pass by each other hoping to grab on to each other. Two strands able to reconnect at the end of the long journey and be strong. Strands of truth unlocking many of my unknown aspects, I am left pleased.

Confided in my heart lies many irreplaceable memories; I sit speechless, contemplating. We will never comprehend how these strands work; we will hypothesize their meaning, solidarity. I trust them; I am not sure whether I should or not, nevertheless I do. I do not trust anyone. It is my weakness. Trust builds within relationship well started and well maintained.
When I remove the strands I am left with impressions on my forehead, left with a sign of loss or pain. I was knotted with these strands; we acted as one. Now I stand with a mark, a memory upon my forehead, alone. I stand and reminisce of the things two strands of man-made fabric drew out of me.
Despite the twists and turns, the strands of bogus leather are strong and willing. Two strands that give confidence and gain trust. Two strands. One traditional braid. Just one.