I have the unfortunate capacity to love strangers.
To know just a few things about a person and fall utterly in love with them. To have the overwhelming need to draw them or write about them or think of them for eternity, for it would certainly take an eternity to capture their infinite beauty. I have the unfortunate capacity to love strangers. To pass someone in the hallway, and have their face haunt my thoughts for weeks afterwards. To hear a stranger's voice and want, more than anything, to hear that voice for the rest of my life. To see someone's outfit and want to be able to wear an outfit like that too. I have the unfortunate capacity to love strangers.
I could smell a stranger's shampoo today, from all the way across the room. Tangy and sweet, crisp as a leaf. I saw a stranger's eyelashes today, framing his crystal clear eyes. He looked not at me, but past, as if I was an illusion. I tasted a stranger's food today, in the dusty cafeteria. Seasoned, colorful, loved, anonymous. I heard a stranger's laugh today, sewn together with her melodic tone, sentences upon sentences strung together in an effortless song. The laugh stuttered, unsure, but still it was childish, happy, joyful. I touched a stranger's hand today, trembling and cold. I felt the way they recoiled, and I knew it was an accident, an unwanted connection.
And perhaps, impossibly, I'll spend the day in the arms of a stranger, smelling their bitter shampoo for hours upon hours on end. And perhaps, impossibly, a stranger will look me with his perfect blue eyes and see me for me. And perhaps, impossibly, a stranger will make dinner for me one day, knowing that it is my favorite kind, loving me through their works. And perhaps, impossibly, I'll make a stranger laugh for days, perhaps I'll be the cause of the crow's feet in the corners of her eyes, the ones that will appear in just a few fleeting years. And perhaps, impossibly, a stranger will come from behind me and grasp my hand, intentionally, lovingly, and we'll hold on to each other for the rest of the day, scared to leave our anchors, content to be with each other.
Perhaps, impossibly, I will fall in love with a stranger, a stranger will fall in love with me,
and a stranger no longer shall they be.
