She looks at me
Like a wandering maverick
Exploring my soul
Through the stems of my retina.

Travelling to my body
Through the feel of my pulse,
As she grasped my hand
Lingering on bold emotions

Baffled with blurred questions;
Peceptions nor judgement
Was never clear and printed
Vague intentions.

Softly spoken words
On a gloomy bipolar weather
With a cup of brewed happiness,
Yes, we are strangers.