Beautiful Stranger

Sometimes I wonder
What did you do for a living
Were you a doctor?
Lawyer?
Or magician ? Cuz the greatest trick you"ve ever performed was making me believe that you didn't exist

I skipped many verses in this poem cuz there is hardly anything I can say about what I miss , hate , or love about you cuz your absence was the honey that intoxicated my numbness
Hence when you're near I can never feel your presence much less recognize you
Instead ... I wonder
Who is this stranger ?
And I'm not fond of strangers
I'm fond of you like books are fond of being forgotten
I'm fond of you like wives revel in the thought of being number two
I'm fond of you like throats think of swallowing 50 inch nails
Like chalk loves to be the author of boredom

I've never met you
I've only seen the skin in which you live
And I can't remember what that feels like
I can't remember what you look like
Yet I'm reminded that you really do exist everything I comb my hair or notice my sideburns
I am reminded of how your faint invisible kisses remain so visible .

20 years and I still don't know you
nothing is happy about today my dear sweet loving mother ...
Though not knowing you is probably a hybrid gift , some messed up half blessing half curse kind of wonderful...yet I still love that which I do not know



I don't know you

 But I implore , remain where you are ...


I love all the mystery that abounds in the graveyard in which I've buried all of you
What ever all of you is or was

As I sit braced against your tombstone
Crying this blood you cannot see although it drips like lethal acidic kisses on your soul

I just want you to know
Your role will always be remembered ...
Yet I will always love that which I do not know...