The Fingerprint of Your Voice

I was nothing but white paper

until you took your pen

across my face.

How loudly I speak now

with the fingerprint of your voice.

My ink lips protest your dismay

at not finding the right shoes.

When I first saw your shadow

upon me I believed

there would be something

profound recorded on

my virgin surface,

a sonnet, a cinquain, an epistle.

Now I wish to curl up

 in a wrinkled ball.

My dream

of fame

 reduced

to selfish

 ramblings

 of a fashion

 deprived

 Twit!

©Susie Clevenger 2012

Real Toads Challenge: Write a futuristic poem

Not sure I met the challenge but I had fun.  :)