title: I am like an 18th century philosphe with no need for a heart

Ah! comely 1000 thread count
-Oh countess! lighter than air,
despite tall hair & glued on mole.

The 1000 locks wove round your skull

Black and lovely strands
extending to heaven
and
pinched tween god's thumb
and forefinger

Oh...most sorry, Lady. I mustn't linger-
I've people to screw and
things to do which can't
do for themselves

No, no...you DO look lovely
and though you dangle
in the Sovereign's grip,
your little feet not quite
touching the ground...
it is comely:
giving you
the look of levity-
when seen from afar.

my parting words, dear lady:
Don't get too close