Stalker

Can’t see her, but the
feeling
tap-dancing sugar-shy off my eyes
(like the perfect pink pony)
never dies.

Three coats of water to wake up; the mirror
Noisy streets, watering eyes, blank purpose
Teachers imagining to be
A trip back, still waylaid
Pillows late at night…
(she’s there, everywhere,
like an unlighted candle.)

Neverneverland has thick walls
but she listens,
and one day, she’ll make a mistake
(and I’ll stalk her back.)

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