A treasure in barren desert
There was a stranger I met,
Courtly and pure still,
Wise yet mad as well,
His soul poured ecstasy and bliss,
He seemed poor devil nevertheless; he was full.
Euphoria was when he spin a yarn.
I met him soon, two months and a year, a splendid year indeed.
A solman promise we took; to be frankly open. Silence was detestable though for both of us.
I had always fled for a safety in his speech.
There I found quietness and peace.
You may assume he is my lover ,yet he is more better than that for me.
I call him my stranger still, though he is the closest to my soul.
Mama said "don't talk to strangers."
and he is the kind of stranger that I want to keep.
Purely dangerous,
Quietly decent,
Impulsively romantic;
The features he owns makes him a treasure in a barren desert.
YOU ARE READING
She writes // Not So Secret Diary.
PoetryList of poems ✨ People would think they're just separated letters and we collect them to form words and sentences,they have no idea that we bleed on papers to take out the pain out of our souls. - 𝐒𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈. 🌻
