She always dressed in black.
Like the cocktail party
Was about to happen.
I remember she changed her name
to Constance
because it sounded ******.
Her hands were cold as ice
She said it was her circulation
As her heart was in jar
inside the refrigerator.
I never saw her without
Steaming coffee or a glass
of blood red wine
in her manicured hand.
She called men
her entertainment
And me her latest toy.
Her hand was covered in rings
Ornate and bejewelled.
She said they were tributes
from her many past admirers.
She always wore heels
She said leggs are
a woman's secret weapon.
In her bedroom
She had a collection of whips
On the wall.
She never said
what they were for.