It was so easy
To make a man love her
Or to think she loved him
They could meet on Tuesday
She would then pick the day
At least until the weekend
He would be thinking of flowers by then
And breakfast
It wasn't ******
Being lonely wasn't her idea
Besides men don't ask questions too soon
That was good
She had nothing to say like that
It was better to seem simple minded
It made him feel secure
While she grew apart from him before church
Guilt made it seem as if she tried
Even though she knew it was a lie
She wasn't in charge of civilization anyway
Only the condition of her heart
She thought of her new name for next week
Bronte
Yes that would make him write poetry
What else can a man do with a name like that?