I met a man with a wife.
She was beautiful-
Eyes as wide as the sky,
Just as blue, too.
Her hair was long and golden,
Falling past her chest,
Just to her midriff.

It was late when he first saw me,
Four years younger than he,
Plain in comparison to any other-
But lack of beauty didn't seem to matter.
And so he spoke-
Begged for me to follow.

But who is worse?
The unfaithful man,
A broken promise, a sham,
Or the young woman,
Not ignorant to his ring,
At lack of love for wanting
To pretend that promise was hers?

And what is love,
But a broken promise?
A broken ring?
I'm not sure it matters, but,
He said he was a Christian.