Stranger Poem by Deja Still

Who is this stranger,
That sleeps in our bed.
The one who's name I cherished,
Can't even be said.
This touch I once loved,
Now bares such shame.
This heart I once admired,
No longer the same.
Don't look at me with those eyes,
This person I dont know.
Don't tell me these things,
We both know aren't so.
Alone in my silence,
I yearn to grieve.
For this heart of mine,
That has been so decieved.
But I cannot shed
not even one tear.
Cause if I do
That means this is real.
I refuse to give in,
To this stranger in my bed.
Who's name makes me weak,
To even be said.


Original Poem By Deja Still March 2009