The moon was out
The night, planned and set
On the table
All the trimmings
Paired, in candle light
Alone she waits
And contemplates
The evening to transpire
Shouldn’t love, fuel desire
Promises, unkempt
A fool for words
She understood
She sat him down
Adjusted her crown
Proclaiming him
A cheating liar
are they promises, unkempt or unkept? I have come upon several women who write a poem about getting rid of a bad man. The setup of the dinner by candlelight and the crown, among other details, make this one especially intriguing. I can’t help wonder how his lies caused such pain…….