Love Poem to Paris Hilton

 

  

It’s like Nick Ut took my picture…

Or the infamous side of ungrateful

in a maelstrom of indifference

without identifying itself…

 

Who is calling? – I am not net-worth.

Or how the chameleon reckons with

divorce, and other calamities awaiting –

 

my stature as diva wanes because

there’s no such thing anymore – yet

 

I harbor innocence – forgetfulness,

but full-bludgeoned there – my life

a hell of my own seeking, yet no one

has spilled the grace to introduce themselves

 

as a person used to being alone.

 

 

 

©2007 wfairbrother

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