Virginea Wolfed '65

[tectak]

Virginea's soul was crammed in to her eyes;
she cried because her body she despised.
Young lust her drug, an easy pill to swallow.
Today she's mine...she's anyones tomorrow.
From archives. tectak 1965
Apologies to Barbara Streisand

Honestly, the only line that sticks out to me as original in this four-liner is the first one. Each other one is one that we've heard before; perhaps you could use creative language to say it in a new, fresh, and/or different way? After reading this poem, the one thing I want most from the writer is for them to expand on what they touched on in this poem. Why did she despise her body, yet have so much lust? What does that feel like for her? For you? Make it personal, make it raw, make it come from within. Make it contain observations someone couldn't just make with their eyes, but rather their heart.

That's the trouble with originality...the origin. Though written almost 50 years ago I still feel apologetic for diverse reasons. I guess this is short-form destined but I really will take critique and modify as an exercise.
The reason for posting is getting lost. A crit complained that I used big words that he didn't understand....like "understand"...so I stuck up a very old piece written before I used complicated words...like "complicated"...to see what would bite. Tiddlers. Enough of this...I must write something new. The next 50 years will not generate (make) critique that matters to me
Best and thanks,
tectak (believe me...it WAS personal)