Idle fantasy

They say the way you write exposes you, the way you talk and the way you walk. 

How you make the tiny slashes and dots of red, how you dispose of the e- (how madd-ningly cute too) and how you strode across the room with the most nonchalant air about you 

You do not know me, I hope you don't,  because 

I like to know I have the power-- of knowledge 

And since this time my lack thereof would compel those scarlet slashes 

Across my paper, the more I thirst - for power 

With desperation 

Please never go, or please do go, 

Yet I fear for -possession. 

But naught I need to worry 

I'm quite aware that those 

Are just my fantasies. 

But I fantasise, with your name across my screen 

(Woe that we've come to this era!) 

And infuriating, really, how you wouldn't end your sentences 

Properly 

Last but not least, you 

And my name for you 

Scribbled and scribbles on paper 

For I can make fiction out of you 

-and in fiction lies my solace