Sonnet 130

My ex-love’s eyes don’t compare to the sun;
They glisten and shine far brighter instead;
At least for me, reflected boundless fun
In shapes of gold coins, red wine and sweet bread.

I resisted advances, but flagged white;
He always got the tab, his manner meek.
’Course, plane tickets were an added delight;
Though heavy hair product, cologne sure reek.

Overlook’d those few fatal flaws, I know;
Computer, cam’ras, wedding bells made sound;
Gifts, promises that were all given a go;
’Til a “safer” woman had come around.

So oft, by stars, I know my ex as rare
In currency, though no others compare.

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