Obsession

I can tell I'm your 
new obsession. 
I can tell by the way
your eyes- green, yellow, 
waiting to catch your
prey-
glaze over my body. 
"Your hair,"
whispered near my ear. 
"It smells...
just like cotton candy."
You breathe me in, 
your new obsession. 
I know you're 
thinking of
hiding me. 
Somewhere dark, musty,
perfect for brushing my hair,
untangling the cotton candy strands. 
I know you would. 
You said I could 
come back to your 
house anytime-
you said
I could look at 
your library and browse the books. 
It would have been harmless, 
except for the 
yellow eyes
staring at me, 
contemplating how I
should be killed. 
Maybe you would 
have grabbed my hand, 
then, and pulled me inside. 
Maybe your fingers 
even started to twitch 
in my direction, 
as you leaned in, 
right before my 
mother returned
from the car 
and I handed you 
the quarter. 
I'm your new
obsession, I can tell. 
I feel you
watching me sometimes, 
preparing, giggling lightly, 
waiting for just the right moment
to stick your 
serial killer nose 
back into my hair. 
I feel it just
like I did that day, 
as we drove off,
your eyes burned into my memory. 
I'm your new obsession. 
I can tell.