A world of little worlds,
My own all but ever separate.
Each a place of bargained passion,
My own all but never shared.

To each I bring myself,
And though in each I wall myself apart,
In all some part of me remains.

The time I sell with youth and beauty
I buy back,
With jumbled memories of bright-eyed men,
Shaded rooms, and dark taxis.

You tell me I am so beautiful,
Sometime lover how can I believe you?
Is it me you see,
Or only the me in the little world we share?