The Collection
Arm piece;
Piece of glamor;
A bedazzling jewel.
Parade of fancy flesh.
Kind to his eyes.
Soft to his touch.
Mindless merchandise
Fallen breast.
Eyes swollen;
Damaged by
Reckless owner.
Invested in the flesh.
He has stashed away
Yesterday’s
Pleasures
numerically.
Stored
in backroom boxes
Of subfuscous
treasures.
Women
Tucked away
As for yesterday’s booty.
Serves now but as an
Unattractive prize;
Weighed with eyes’.
and lustful hearts.
For her, no fresh start.
Ahh!, but for him
New glitter sachets;
As she parades
In her fine attire.
She has appealed
to his recent desires.
Maids and maidens’
He added them;
Subtracted, them
From the human collection.
Once attractive royalty,;
No longer appealing.
Pleasures weighed
By false measures.
Determined by a heart,
“wholly without loyalty”.
whose fault?
I say…
“Her fault totally”.
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2017
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