Collectibles

 She was just another piece in his collection

Just another exhibit possession

But the crowning glory the coda of his life

The music played on it was the music

Of his hot wife

The only thing was she never possessed a soul

She was a beautiful China doll

She was a Russian doll of many selves

Strip back the onion layer

There she same person but smaller

younger, more child-like when sick

She was just like the ballerina

Dancing on the music box stick

Dancing to his records

She wanted to be owned, looked after

She was afraid of death

And old age. Time was a jester

Who played a cruel trick

Despite her beauty 

Or in spite of it

He took away that which she was most

vain about, proud of

Her smile

Which blazed like a sunrise

Across her face

Yet he was equally vain

For having her in his collection

Keeping her in her place

In the glass cabinet

Is love the freedom of expression

Allowing the bird to leave its cage

To fly where she wishes

And with whom she chooses

No for it's a social contract

It has bounds and limits

Perhaps I was beating the bounds

As they still do, to frighten the birds into the sky

Where they can be shot down by

The hunters

I asked her what would you like to drink?

She said "Your soul"

I think she already has drunk mine

She has kept herself young

At my life's expense

And drunk up my blood 

Like wine