My Ex-Staffs.
All my husbands,
Nightly minions,
Day's guys,
Haunt my leisure,
And my room is scattered,
With shadowy shows,
The mimic of unsaturated pleasures.
None I blame, none I claim,
For, they were ebb and tide,
In the run of my temporal see,
In my blooming flowers, they were bees.
Love, -never I had, but a tigress' appetite,
The hunger of chemistry did alone fight.
Time and Nature contrive to spoil,
I could not see my soul for their vain broil!
You may live in street, home or brothel,
In your psychic, I do feel, you have my tale!
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