thinking about the stranger who made my day when she smiled at me on the street because i randomly made eye contact with her,
about the way i smiled a second too late
thinking about the stranger who held my arm when my foot got stuck in a bush on the way back home from a concert,
about the way my feeble thank you might not have reached his ears
thinking about the stranger i knew, once, a friend, i hope,
they ebb, and flow; in, and out; come, and leave
(“and stay?” “sometimes.”)
thinking about the stranger that i know,
who brushes my arm in the corridor,
i smile feebly; she does too (does she?)
and then, we cross paths, and leave.
stranger that I know,
why do you feel like home,
to me?
stranger that i see,
there is something that pulls me.
to you,
stranger that i find
i am losing my mind,
over you
stranger oh, stranger
stranger that i know,
i would bare my soul,
to you.,
(..with just a word;
maybe that is why i run)
stranger, why do you feel like life to me?
when you pass me by in the hallways, it becomes hard to breathe.,
stranger, how am i to tell you,
that you remind me of my favorite shade of blue?
(and the moon.// and music// and laughter// my kind of person// intimacy// and quiet nights// in cityscapes// and the sound of rain// and thunder shooting up my spine// into my veins// my hands shake// you blind me// oh stranger// made of light// made of dark// made of mystery// made of stars// you are an enigma// made of art// and a muse// with a golden heart.)