After I Subconsciously Plagiarized You

I subconsciously burned the only copies
of your manuscripts. I had no idea; I swear

to you I am not aware. There's "no ghost"
in "the" "machine." I don't know what

I say, much less what I mean. My futurist mind
Xeroxed your cliché 500 times & made it

descend a staircase. Is that brilliant?
If I take a photograph of you thru this filter

the twinkle in your eye becomes a supernova.
I'll snapshot your eye into a heat death.

You're my muse, so I love you.
Do you love me? Did you invent me?