Beautiful Stranger


He does not answer when you ask,
He does not give eye contact when you stare,
He just watches the rain,
Just thinking.

Perhaps he contemplates life and death?
Weighing the possibilities for which challenge him
And his wit,
Perhaps he queries love and hate?
Questioning their explanations for which possess
His mind and heart.

I tenderly raised my head
And spoke against the raging rain;
I see a revengeful boy, who has been hurt for years,
And he has now carried that into his manhood.

He does not move or answer,
But the mist of his breath replied,
And there he stood and walked.

He had a guilty limp and a remorseful quiver,
Like he had murdered someone
But did not intend to – homicide?
I queried;
Glass memories had embedded his skin,
While angry truths and revealed lies tattooed his veins.

As he walked, I whispered once more;
I see a revengeful boy, who has been hurt for years,
And he has now carried that into his manhood.

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