The Perfect Stranger
Our souls have met before...
You are a mystery to me now,
but one day you could be everything...
The fear of the unknown,
Is suddenly comforted by,
Your sweet words.
I'm not nervous to meet you,
Because in just a few weeks,
You have discovered my vulnerabilities
And,
Made me feel safe.
I have not yet met you,
And even if all of this were just a
Few sweet words,
I won't regret that we had met.
You are a stranger to me now,
And it is the unknown that,
Brings me both comfort and fear.
And with this thought,
I close my eyes
and imagine you holding me with your
masculine embrace...
About the Creator
Savannah Daringflower
I write stories that trigger daydreams and everything fun in between...
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NAZIS IN AMERICA
In May of 1945, amidst the collapse of the Third Reich, high-ranking Nazi engineer Wernher von Braun reached out to the US government, aware of his strategic value due to his role in developing long-range ballistic missiles. Von Braun's proactive approach highlighted the beginning of Operation Paperclip, a covert initiative aimed at recruiting German scientists to the US before they fell into Soviet hands. Over the course of 17 years, Operation Paperclip facilitated the relocation of over 1,500 German scientists to America, disregarding their Nazi affiliations and potential war crimes.
By Ohis-Elakhe saint3 days ago in Poets
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
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