I met a man the other day,

He paid attention to how my hips swayed 

He laid a napkin down under my cutlery

I said in my mind don’t hurry but stay a while

So I lit up my face with an exuberant smile

He decided to go the extra mile

The tenderness seeped from his lips as my own did hide 

I felt at last I shall be a bride.

I rejected any snide comments they made in my mind 

He was kind and gentle 

But never mine. 

I watched him walk away until the sadness died in my eyes.

Gloria tries and tries, to no avail, until the veil shall shroud her truth 

She will unmask her own sorry fate, until a brute joins her in matrimony.

A holy sacrosanct mess of crimson and honesty 

He stole her seed, but left her in the night, not once but thrice.

The sorry type.