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"My Name Is..."

Hello, Stranger.

you. the incoming and unrecognizable mass of human flesh
that has reincarnated to undesirable egos and unfitting compassionless
wonderment of a man. hey, you. I adore how the fascade
creeps past my skin to steal a kiss on the cheek. How that soft graze
feels like a stinging blade within secretes that you want to excrete. I want to
introduce myself to you. Tell you that I would like to know your name, at least
find out the syllables to how I would greet you, how a thief in the night you remind
me of as you sleep next me in the sheets which enclose us two.

Hello, Stranger.

i prefer a label. you know, the weird sticky adhesive to put on the chest of your cotton
shirt which smells vaguely familiar of a cologne which I inhaled. I would rather see
the spark of magic in a marker that spells out a name because the person whom I know
and the person that stand in front of me are two and not the same. I do not know you.
"hello, my name is:" fill in the blank. You are that blank, distant, unknown persona
that I will have to be terribly obliged just to converse to you naturally
do not know if I should write on your chest and spell out a salutation
but to touch a stranger, I find a mere hesitation
and I want to say how familiar you look, but then again
my mind plays tricks on me, so

Hello, Stranger

how odd
that you have greeted me.


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