The Stranger

It was a late night in September,

The beginning of autumn,

When the image of a stranger

Appeared on the left corner of my laptop.

He was tall and handsome,

He had a bald head, "damn" fit,

In his late thirties,

Way better than Brad Pitt.

We clicked in a second.

He took off my gold mask,

And when his green eyes looked at mine,

They took my breath, not only that...

From time to time I find myself

Lying in these sheets,

Closing my eyes, trying to feel

That the man touching me, is him.

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