What is life if not the smiles of strangers,

The flowers in their hair that hide the dangers of romance;

Mystery that follows behind their glance?

Closeness is some kind of cardinal sin.

On the surface, do you not feel that layer of thin change,

A loss when you can confide? Is it strange?

Am I alone in this, am I alone?

What is love if not somebody's new cologne, rose scented?

I fear this is something I've invented.

The fresh morning smell and friends dear —

Close to heart, yet with unclear despondency,

Fear and love – a correspondency.

Familiarity – warm and yet I shiver,

What's to be done to deliver me some peace?

To embrace or to suffer on my knees?

And this is a secret, a whisper in the dark,

My burdens just a watermark I wear,

But for no one to see, that I swear.



© shishmish