The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

This is dedicated to my favorite book of all time.

Seven men, seven pledges, seven stories to tell,

However, there was one lady who wore them so well.

Evelyn Hugo, a star within the light,

A ruler of the screen, burning as well shining.

Ernie Diaz, an implies to elude,

A marriage of flight, a life to reshape.

She cleared out him behind with a heart made of steel,

Chasing a dream as it were Hollywood might uncover.

Don Adler, a man full of charm,

With hands that may adore but too do hurt.

She learned that control is best when it's hers,

No man's control, no bruises or slurs.

Mick Riva, a streak within the dull,

A wedding, an embarrassment, an insignificant start.

A title for the papers, a trap for the diversion,

But cherish wasn't there—just fortune and notoriety.

Rex North, a bargain, a settlement, an arrange,

Two on-screen characters imagining for their given fans.

No energy, no torment, fair a way to outlive,

A contract to keep both their careers lively.

Harry Cameron, the most genuine of all,

A fellowship so solid, it never would drop.

A cherish built on believe, in spite of the fact that not of want,

A spouse in title, a soul set ablaze.

Max Girard, a craftsman fixated,

Seeing Evelyn as it were was his culminating victory.

But cherish isn't revere, nor something to claim,

And she strolled absent, way better off alone.

Robert Jamison, the final in line,

A calm companion through the conclusion of time.

Not her great adore, but consistent and genuine,

A consolation she required when all else was through.

But behind it all, in shadow and shade,

Lived the cherish that she never sold out.

Celia St. James, her heart's only queen,

An adore as well illegal, a cherish inconspicuous.

Seven spouses, however as it were one fire,

A mystery she carried underneath all the notoriety.

Evelyn Hugo, astonishing and striking,

A story of cherish that never develops ancient.