An Ode To Strangers

You are something new

Someone my life never had before

But the moment it did

I knew I wanted more of you


You who I’ve always been told to ignore

Don’t bother them

Don’t listen to them

Don’t leave with them

Don’t talk to Strangers, Victoria


But all I want to do is listen to you

And the stories you could tell with my mind

If I could only put them to words


Yet I sit,

Ready to tare the page from the spiral

Pack the pen into the pencil pouch

And shut down the laptop

Because you’ll always be a stranger to me


When a blank page stands before me

I am standing in a crowd of strangers

Pushing past me

Starting out on stories I may never start myself

Because I am too afraid to talk to you


Awkwards silence when we sit face to face

My words race to find their place between my fingertips

Pencil or keyboard

Seemingly neglect my lips


Why does talking to you feel so wrong sometimes?

You are a stranger’s face fleeting in my mind’s eye

Existing in no other world than mine


I am the only one who can tell your story


So, don’t be a stranger to me

I love talking to you

Even if most of our conversations are silence sometimes

But when you crack a smile

I’ll know we’ll probably be here for awhile

And my fingers will hurt from writing about you too much

But it will never be enough



A Writer’s mind is always filled with Strangers


This poem is about: 
Our world


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