~prelude For a Stalker~
I wish she were my concubine
all wrapped in my celebrity,
draped, Dali-like around my neck
or me melded between her thighs,
not just a deity
who floats past floored-jaws
as if they were a guard of honour.
A virtual sniper
fixating her in a thousand yard stare,
firing bullets of desperation
hoping to pierce her heart,
but I am a candle in a flash bulb supernova
not even the burn in retina's memory,
just a mote in jetsam discarded.
Copyright © Colin Marschall | Year Posted 2009
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