As strangers we meet again,
So far apart,
Battling our devilish memories,
We try to forget the nightmares.
Stoned we are,
When our eyes meet,
Our hearts poisoned with deceit.
As strangers we stare,
Our eyes meeting,
The hate trying to escape,
From our cloaked souls,
So drenched in this fog of misery we are,
We have forgot to live,
We are dead inside,
But the stench no one notices.
Sometimes we pass too closely,
And we flinch from touch,
The same old disgust evident in our gazes,
Heart ache breeding distrust.
What are we?
Demons afraid of dark?
Or just mortals missing our spark?
Strangers we are,
On verge of departure,
Still our eyes meet a last time,
Tendrils of recognition unfurl,
But we turn around,
Ignore each other,
And go away as strangers………………………….
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Comments about this poem (Strangers by Lucifera Santez )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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