Wounded Vanity

                
                  She thought him a philanderer. Capable of any deceit!
                  He thought her naive and uneducated
                  A bit of a drain
                  Often weariness had a way of its own
                  As guilt brought forth vulnerability
                  So wretched she didn't want to live
                  Constantly horrified by her own air of dejection

                  Putting on a saintly mask to hide the man beneath
                  He imprisoned her heart
                  Not a flu. Not a stomach upset. Pregnant!
                  Reality making a house call
                  A plausible rogue he was
                  Truth too outstanding to disclose
                  With no courage to face up to it

                  Yet, she could see only him b4 her