Isla

Give me those fake jewels, let me laugh through tears, I will dance with fools, take cold white stars, my tresses bring them near, say we'll go to Mars, his face turns churlish hue, thinks he's in the clear, how he takes my news, I file smile and depart, leave him ached for years, in my reverie no charts, he can whisper and sue, won't want a soul to hear, I shrug at being cool, love is a poisoned dart, my perfume costs me dear, his a punctured heart, all men with power fear.