she’s a ghost

I catch her drifting through the room,
pale and translucent.
Eyes flit over her as if she isn’t there.
but she is, isn’t she?

An ethereal spirit of milky white skin,
I have trouble focusing on her.
My gaze passes over her and around her,
smooth and pale as she is.

Now I find myself staring at her, willing her
to become more opaque.
I quickly glance away, embaressed by my
rapidly growing obsession.

She drifts from point to point, person to person,
a vagebound spectre.
I can’t help it, I keep my eyes on her,
I am enchanted.

I am now afraid that if I look away,
she will dissapate.
And I will be left with nothing but a memory
of her pale, creamy existance.