The more she looks into it
The more she wants an out
The nightclub where she met him
So frightfully loud
So dreadfully dim
That he stood out
A curious thing
He said all the right things
Maintained eye contact throughout
His nice smile
Devoted to her
Covers broken teeth
He fashioned an altar
From the greasy dance-floor
And the fumbled smear on her underwear
His only offering
As he lay her down
Muttering gruff at her throat
His whisky breath
Moist and sticky
Against her chest
Such a curious fling
She puts on her brave face
And he takes it off
Straight away
He delights
In the frightened
Little girl beneath
He pants to victory
As she weeps
Then rolls himself away
And snores himself to sleep
I am not a silent poet 