The Betrayal of Beauty
The lover, declining an invitation:
“Sorry, but I dare not risk again to find other lovers in your home or that they come visiting while I am with you.”
I am afraid this argument will be considerable,
circumstantial, comprehensive, difficult and hard
for this dark lady of the sonnets
who used men for selfish means
and used her beauty ruthlessly
to without judgement treat them
as the servants of her whims,
as slaves, in fact, for her fanatic feminism.
The problem was that she was beautiful enough
to make them flock around her,
lose their senses for her beauty
and allow themselves to even be deceived by her
as she replaced each lover with another,
calling them all, naturally, only “friends”.
The fact is that they all loved her
while she loved no one but herself,
a victim and a slave to her own charm and beauty,
failing to observe that there was anyone but her
in that small world of hers.
When finally she was looked through
by those she had been using for no ends except her own,
who never had been thanked for all their services
and found her finally to be without a trace of honesty,
she had deceived them all with yet another lover
while they slaved for her for months,
which was not found out until after four months
by another ex of hers, quite accidentally, of course;
and only then she had to tell them why
she had been lost to all her friends
for such a long time without answering communications.
She is now notorious, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I did everything I could for her
and find myself now free of all responsibility.
It’s difficult to be a woman
and as difficult to be a man
when you can not stop loving her
no matter how much she herself betrays her beauty
while you stay on stuck with her
because you only see the beauty of the soul,
to which you can but stay forever faithful.