SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY.
The mirror sees my aging face
St Valentine, I've little grace;
The face reflects the heart within
Too little faith and steeped in sin.
So come you men I once seduced,
The game's the same, the terms reduced!
My lips, blest Saint are passionate, my eyes still wide and
My loins are just as tender twixt linen crisp and white.
The mirror tells the ugly truth,
And I regret my squandered youth.
Beautiful features I abused,
My body ruined and misused.
I lived on love and flourished too
As all we fallen ladies do.
I gave my kisses willingly but as my ardour cooled,
St Valentine 'twas not Amour but Old Man Lust who ruled.
The mirror says it's time to quit
And who am I to question it?
Too proud to kneel before the Saint,
Far too much powder, too much paint.
Like tarnished brass I've lost my glow,
And altruism made me so.
St Valentine I need a love, who'll true to me remain,
The flame of passion's going out, who's going to kindle it
The mirrored countenance I see
Reflects on what I used to be.
I patched up many a broken heart,
Restored moral to every part.
Consoled and comforted what's more...
Such is the duty of a whore.
Saint-Valentine-The-Virile, blest patron saint of lovers,
Please send someone to do for me, what I have done for others.