SPURNED
The courtesan stared at the new suitor
from across the table,
the Conqueror of all.
Desperately trying to catch his eye.
Following him home,
Slipping anonymous declarations under his door,
Loving him from afar.
the Conqueror didn't notice the courtesan
through all her attempts,
She couldn't understand why.
It wasn't because of her lewd ways,
compared to his suspected Verdure
Her heart was PURE.
The courtesan's affection was uncanny,
to the conviction of others,
for they knew his heart was ingrown with other Topiary.
She was just a courtesan.
With her heart shattered in pieces once again.
She ran through the night in despair,
Humbled by the thought,
that her flower
wasn't smooth, or soft enough for
the Conqueror to love and cherish.
She was just a courtesan,
sitting at a Table,
surrounded by suitors,
but no one one to call her OWN.
