from google



the truest beauty …





On that rainy windswept night, when we took shelter under a leaking bus stop,


shivering as invisibles, scratched out of this world’s pitiless sight.



We spoke at length, as the buses passed us by,


we bared our souls to each other, as strangers often do,


laughing about how we roamed these avenues without a clue.



We spoke of excruciating truths, of life’s random cruelty, of our hopes and of our dreams, of our small joys and of our fears,


as we stood under that leaking bus stop, the rain streaking down cheeks that were salty with tears.



I barely saw you, and you could hardly see me, in the rain and in the fog,


as we laughed and cried together, sharing feelings of being swamped in life’s quicksand tugging bog.



We spoke so much that rainy night, we shared what we could not share with anyone else, we spoke of love and the beauty of it all,


we stood in the rainy sleet, dwarfed by the grey buildings towering so impersonally tall.



The beauty that I felt in those moments spent with you, the truest beauty I have ever felt, far beyond the fakery of strutting it all on this daily, gaudy parade,


truer than it all, all of it, far beyond the hollow shells of the neverending charade.



That night passed, as all nights must, yet you remain with me, within me, the beautiful stranger I could hardly see.



Today, I look back through the wisps of time, failing to scribble even the simplest rhyme,


knowing not much, but this much I know to be true,

the truest beauty of all, caresses your soul, and envelopes your heart,


the truest beauty rests,

deep beneath the superficial you …




from google












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