There was a time when I was
proud of my beauty.
Men were around me, young and
old, on one pretext
Or the other, surveying me
behind and then in front.
They occasioned to touch me,
press me and kiss me.
They emboldened to hold me
and to grope beneath.
They fed me like doves on grains.
I was lavished on.
I had fallen in my fall,
yellowing and graying.
Why did I mix carnal pleasure
like one does
A cocktail, so soon on the
borrowed cushions.
The pleasure reaped in
ecstasy turned arsenic
As I recollect. Wine in ten
cups is unequal
To a drop of poison. Let me
live no longer
To face the torture of pain
from the pleasure
That has been embedded in my
bone and vein.
22.11.2002
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