Honest.

Honest.

Untitled

I know you.

But you sound like a stranger.

I know you.

But your eyes have a different color.

They’re glowing in a mischievous way.

Who are you?

 

Our arms intertwined while we walk.

I feel frozen just from feeling your skin.

I hear your voice, but you sound distant.

What am I supposed to answer?

When you talk like a stranger.

 

You hug me.

But your arms are too tight around me.

I cannot breath.

I can feel your smile on my cheek.

And I know it’s fake.

It’s too crooked.

I cannot smile back.

 

Who are you?

Where is my friend?

Who are you?

Where are your warm arms?

Please, I want your warm smiles.

Please comment and like this poem.

Florencia Saez.

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