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Jesse Zwick Nov 2015
There was a man in a bright white suit.
His date was dressed in charcoal gray.
Dressed were they for a dance at school.
“You look quite dapper!” most would say.

His date’s best friend was also there.
Dressed in white with beautiful hair.
Her date was dressed in charcoal gray.
The same color to his dismay.

The man in the white suit noticed
That the dates’ grays matched perfectly.
A red blotch on his chest showed this.
The girl in white talked carelessly.

Her dress remained pure, without mark.
His suit was all white, but the heart.
The man broken, ready to die.
Her, clueless, not even a sigh.

The man began to long for her,
Even though she was not his date.
He felt so hurt, he was not sure.
Should he tell? Or is it too late?

He had wanted to share this pain,
But her pure white dress would be stained.
He dropped the sin between the two,
Leaving the girl without a clue.

As of now that blotch shows bright red.
Only his date knows what it means
Or wise folk whom this poem have read.
The white dressed girl still purely gleams.

— The End —