It is the parasite

I fear

that gives you such a rust for life,

that yellow complexion

under the hollow, shell like eyes,

your youthful frame in which was adored

Goddess like,

Helen of Troy fought over breasts,

the sweet beautiful sparkle

in brown eye shadow hint

and ruby lips,

now plunged into darkness,

the lights removed

and those lips, once

so beautiful to think of kissing,

now dead, spore driven and infectious from

your rust for life

of giving in,