I've had rivals before,

beautiful elegant ones,

talented artistic clever ones,

manipulative crazy ones,

but never before one like you.

Perhaps there's a first time for everything,

Reading a book,

writing a poem.

I can't imagine how you trapped and stifled him.

Probably in the usual way. 

There's nothing new in that. 

there's a secret somewhere,

Like you stole him from someone. 

No wonder he broke away and tried to be free. 

So solid like a thick kitchen table,

With legs to match,

and probably a bank account too,

thick with money you don't earn. 

Living in a big house you didn't buy.

One day you will get your come uppance and maybe him his freedom,

I guess women like you provide security,

There's nothing wild about you,

from your hair  to your face to the way you walk,

no words flow from you,

or pictures or paintings either,

Perhaps you never answer back.

Content in the knowledge you are chosen 

Like Jayne Seymour. 

A quiet  boring English rose.

Safe in your secular pretentious crowd.

There is a cruelty about your man,

that both intrigues and hurts,

But also a softness,

Like he needs and can give so much love.

I would never stay out of necessity. 

I have to love and be loved. 

So I'll carry on being beautiful, crazy and wild

and you can be solid. 

I'll be the willow Tree to your Oak.

or the harp to your cello,

the lily to your rose.

It matters not.

Keep him safe from himself

Love him

and keep him from the track. 

This is all I ask from you.