Dear Stranger

Dear stranger on the corner,
don't mind my uncomfortable silence
as I meet your eyes,
only to too quickly glance away.
It's not personal;
I just find contact,
even that much,
too revealing.
You see, I'm hurting,
but I'd like to die in peace.
I'm tired of explaining
the shadows in my eyes
to people who don't care
beyond a feeling that they should.
If I thought
that I could reach you
with a smile and a handshake,
that we could mutually accept each other's flaws
and better one another,
I'd ask your name
and where you're headed,
what you dream
when you're awake,
and maybe, what you'd make out of forever.
But we're just strangers
on the same street,
and our moment is over.
Best of luck, and I'll see you
when we're neighbors
in some shady little plot
and the flowers overhead
smile and nod, and sigh and know
how good life is,
better than we ever did.