We are strangers, connected by the comfort of unfamiliarity.
Although familiarity, knowing the other, is becoming more a reality.
We touch the edges of our lives.
Spend time in banter, in play, in idle chat in sexy innuendo,adding fizz.
It’s peculiar how the inadvertent takes us to a complete circle.
That feeling of connection; that longing for the things we are not supposed to have.
His face is nothing more than the image of a desired reflection.
Those eyes speaking to me behind his smile.
Light and shadows confound the lines of time.
I want to see him but reality denies my wish.
All we will ever have are conversations pictures and the play of words, poetry to sculpt our imaginations.
Is it enough?
For now until it becomes rebuff.