The Spoils of Avarice

A tattered, ragged leather bag hides faded photos wrapped inside; both black and white and kodachrome reveal lost dreams once held with pride. An older, colder man made weak, by sojourns made so long ago, has paid with shame a painful price for bitter seeds he chose to sow. Consumed by youthful avarice, success became amoral lust for things of want but never need; a soulless loss of love and trust. He cured his life in lurid greed so strong it tore apart his soul as truth imbued was flung aside and grand illusions took control. He chased the dragon of deceit along with every reprobate deluded by corruptions face foresworn to conjure riches fate. Today he stands a naked man reflected in the full length glass of one more sterile penthouse suite; bath fixtures proud old polished brass. He opens up that leather bag to gaze upon the photos there; a smiling girl is gazing back with jade green eyes and skin so fair. She wears a bridal dress of white, her face aglow, adorned with life, to greet a future purpose proud this loving girl became his wife. There standing next to his young bride a man exudes pure confidence to conquer all life's challenges without the slightest reticence. Her innocence he stole away with no remorse for all the lies; he watched her slide into despair till one day in his arms she dies. The ugliness he once concealed, in time she knew each sordid part, yet still he chased the dragon's bait until, at last, he broke her heart. Next to a picture of his bride a small revolver lies in wait; he picks it up and fires inside a mind that found the truth too late.