She met him in the wrong place at the wrong time. But in that moment, her life was perfect. Everything was right. The stars were aligned perfectly against the black velvet sky, and the offspring of the moon sang sweet songs in her ears.  The wind was crisp and cold, and it played in her dark silky hair, games of endearment. He drew her in closely, to protect her from the cold. And she submitted to his efforts to save her from the harmless winds, because deep down she knew that the cold and her were good, good friends.

Oh, he was no good. And she knew it. But he felt good, and she knew that too. So she swooned in those arms, those hard muscled, soft skinned, light brown strong arms. Everyone told her no, they knew he was wrong but why listen to the wrong when the right is telling you not to get left? So she ignored their warnings and in love with him she fell.

Yes, she knew he was nothing more than a bad apple, but she couldn't resist her desire to bite down into its flesh, and go to town until she got to the core. She had no desire to finish, not until he planted his seed.

But the seed bore a tree that never grew. It withered and it died.
She's bitter, she cries.
It was the wrong place at the wrong time.