Poetry

Stranger

It has always been so easy to speak to you,

no judgement, no weird looks

You seem to understand me better than I knew myself,

I often have to be reminded not be give you access to my bookshelf.

The one that holds the map to my weary heart,

in fear that you will understand the real me, as simply as an illustration on a chart.

 

Yet the feeling is addictive,

the bliss; moment of pure joy as a smile creases on my face.

I will let you soothe my wound,

unafraid of what you might do, as i unravel my folds,

then again you are just a stranger,

who has always been so easy to speak to…

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