Bad Boy, Good Girl

 

Jack Vettriano

She can't believe,

 that she put on her favorite dress for this,

a rouge satiny delight,

for this man,

smoke enveloping his sharp features,

a cigarette haughtily dangling from his slack lips,

oh, how she despised men like him,

men who treated her like candy from their choice confiserie.

Oh, how lovely such a damsel was,

he could just swallow her whole,

he could, indeed he could,

although, she seemed oddly adverse to the thought,

he did perceive this much at least,

for,

although she hadn't strutted off yet,

with her polka dotted gown billowing from the shore's breaths, 

she rolled her sweet, earthen pupils skyward when he called her baby,

and promptly told him she was no child,

she was a woman,

she was Samantha,

and would respond to no other,

for no sugar-coated, mollifying epithet,

would ever sound as good as the one her mother bestowed upon her.