I watched you disappear into the husk of the sliver of a shell
that made up who you were
way back when we used to love the world.
Now everything is bronzed
as is the skin of the women you chase--
with no avail, of course.
And they hide in shopping malls and social gatherings
ducking and dodging the looks we give them: mine
of shame and yours of want.
And they crawl into my bed;
and they stay away from yours; because
you give them what they need, and I give them what they want.
What they think they want.
Yet no one's ever wondered how soft those sheets
you bought really are. Thread count? Not interested.
Number of pillows? I'd imagine two.
Three if he's lonely.
I have five.
Live longer than me, prince. Your ounce is worth
more than my entirety.