The Stranger
She knew she wasn't the
first shy girl conned beneath
a scintillant moon.
Why do boys lie so
- inveigling fabrications
- hoping to impress?
Why interlace fibs,
when, from first sight, she had longed
for his carnal lips?
Now doubts danced - as if
evil spirits were called and
asked to watch, and gloat.
"I can't talk to you
again," she said, "after all
- you’re a stranger."
She doubted he cared
- she doubted everything, like
she had a soiled heart.
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