In a London penthouse, gazing out of the window at the skyline,
a glass of red in her hand, is her, the recent widow.
She tilts her head, slightly swirling the glass, pouting.
Her wedding bands already shifted to her right hand,
her recently departed husband only been in the ground twelve hours.
This has become a routine for her.
Husband number three, a young wealthy heir, found dead,
in a hotel room. His widow reported to be inconsolable,
why they had only been married four months.
Taken a handful of pill, the police reported his widow,
claimed to the press she was unaware of his mental state,
or how he got the pills, he was always so happy.
Husband number two, a different story.
He was an older man, twice her age in fact,
but still so young, was unexpected when he died.
A heart attack, the coroner ruled.
The detective on the case, was still unconvinced,
it didn’t seem right when he told the widow, she didn’t even react.
Husband number one, was a big story,
he was her first love, they had been together
since they were 18, tragically killed at 24.
She had gone out with her friends, he was sat at home,
relaxing alone, drinking a few beers. He was murdered,
a burglary gone wrong, nothing of value stolen.
The Widow’s phone chirps. Vibrating on the coffee table.
A dating profile notification, six new matches.
She strolls over and picks it up, starts scrolling through.
Doctor, CEO, Lawyer…An actor. She purses her lips.
She starts to type. She puts the phone back into position.
She walks to a cabinet, removes her rings and places with the others.