He scrimped to please her insatiable tastes.
He sweated through his armpits
To buy the bottle of Moêt and French pates
To add to her heart’s sweets.
On the Valentine’s Day, he waited
In the dimly lit room with tall red candles.
He had the best to have her sated.
He waited and waited, watching fitzes frizzle
The buttered cake melting in annoyance
While he waited and waited till the clock chimed
And he knew midnight was not a prance.
She was one that had this dinner primed and timed…
Red petals of roses on the wooden floor shrivelled,
The chilled drinks unchilled, his heart became chilled.
The walls got the brunt of it all with smacked glasses.
She ran to Russia, raising hope under black babushkas.

©️ William Warigon™️
📸 Rightful owner

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