by Nick Gisburne
Of all the squalid sentiments you spew
Devotion is the darkest of them all
The dangerous obsession you pursue
Offends me every time you try to call
You stare; somehow the distance makes it worse
A smaller slice of stalking, still too much
I burn the notes, your sad, pathetic verse
Imagining the nightmare of your touch
Enough. Enough! The torment has to end
Forget me. Wrap yourself in someone new
I will not spare your feelings, or pretend
The love I give will ever go to you
And why would I be drawn to older men?
I’m only eight, but you are nearly ten
