Mr. Darcy piñata

The reception was without incident
Until bobbing through the doorway
Came a piñata the shape of Mr. Darcy

He buffered across to the canapés
Where, dipping occasionally, he melted
the hearts of several younger women

Who thought ‘that is not just a Mr. Darcy piñata’.
For me he will be different; he will change.
So they left their boring clots of boyfriends

For this rugged and frowning effigy.
Laughed coyly over cocktails, suggesting
Weekend breaks, theatre trips and lingerie.

The piñata gave nothing back in dashing fashion.
His narcissism unable to compete with the fact
that he was only a piñata after all.

Unable to accept this turn of events
The girls began to scratch at his casing,
Stealing strips, desperate to create a wound that would

Tie the piñata to them after they had gone.
Force him to phone them at 3am for no reason
Other than to recover something of himself.

That was not going to happen however.
In the end the piñata sank under their blows.
Shiny wrapped sweets skittered across the floor

etched deeply with words like ‘bastard’ and ‘user’.
The young women snatched these and went back to their tables
sucking them for years till their sweetness grew bitter.