The Perfect Stranger Poem by Sharon Namwalizi

It's funny,
isn't it?
How we can go from being
the closest people alive
from brushing fingers,
bumping into each other
at almost every step
as we walk side by side,
both hoping
we didn't cross the line.

How we would talk about everything
and nothing
at the same time.

To one-word greetings,
spoken out of formality,
then proceeding with our lives,
letting silence
take its place.

In my head,
I'm thinking
this is okay… right?
And I allowed myself
to grow comfortable
with a storm
that had no echoes.

But then sometimes,
it's different.
You look at me,
and I notice you're holding back words.
Sometimes they escape,
and I'm unsure
how to accommodate them.

And when I try to,
I have to remind myself
of the inevitable end.
So I tell myself,
even strangers share two or three words.

I've trained myself
not to allow
your faint attempts
at conversation
to draw me in.
Because I have no shoulder to fall on after,
but you do.

Even if it were later allowed
to hold more than a few words with you,
I don't think
I see myself
taking that chance.

It's nothing against you.
And I believe one day
you'll make
such a perfect stranger.

And if not,
let me believe that
for now.

~sharonnamzi
17: 05 • 05/02/25