dust on her heart

cob-webbed her soul

weak eyes a toll of the hearts she stole

 

is she happy

counting the scalps?

yet mostly she scaled molehills, not Alps

 

easy meat, she

saw me coming

smile so sweet that chic chatter numbing

 

beauty's cool but

not forever

her sheen soon broke free of its tether

 

snug in wrinkles

a crown of wigs

her neck's a bouquet of dried out figs

 

how to bear it

when curves depart

and sweet fruit flees from a stale old tart?

 

I never shone

in shape or looks

no magnet for romeos and cocky pucks

 

mirrors sink that

heart like a stone

at the whim of years that crow's feet hone

 

yet Janes like me

had nought to lose

her grief's the price-tag of entropy's ruse

 

she bedded me

took my cherry

who'll be first to wheel out and bury?

(coronaverse 369)