I Met a Thief

Along the busy, noisy streets.
Of the big bad city!
I met a thief –
And wait: Before this encounter,
I knew thieves,
Carried grenades, pistols, machettes.
But…
Thieves, my child,
They carry no weapons. Not tangible weapons –
They wear a charming smile.
Have boring eyes
Are soft spoken

And when they write, They write of things unfathomable.
They write of death, of tragedy.
So seldom do they discuss lighter emotions.
And when they laugh, They laugh,
Hard, hysterically.

---

I met a thief,
A thief that stretched his hand to reach mine,
And held it tight – the grip!
That very moment,
My heart,
My very vulnerable heart; Stupid even!
Decided it was mine no longer.
But his.

I met a thief…
Who then led the way..
And like a sheep, I followed
Down to a dark lonely path..
Away from the irritating noise and commotion
A path that speaks of peace and it’s treasures
He looked straight into my eyes.
For a moment I was lost..
He then tapped my cheeks,
And behold!

I met a thief.
He drew closer,
Closer to a being who’d let out her heart so willingly
Irresistibly.
He reached for my lips.
I was going to warm up to the embrace..
To the kiss that was never meant..
And the thief vanished
Leaving me at the middle of a lonely peaceful street.

Silence. Darkness. Solitude!