Trouble

The bad boy you liked,
Trouble had a knack of finding him

His tattoos,
You had a habit of tracing with your expertly manicured nails – you must’ve done it a 1000 times,
As he whispered the story behind each one

Secrets, he shared that said he trusted you above others,
Made you feel very special

You got accustomed to his piercings,
Nestling against your body in that way they did

Intoxicated by his caresses,
He became your addiction,
Your one good deed,
That thrilled you to repeat

Doing time, while he was inside;
Felt like you were in prison too

Loyalty, he demanded,
Which you had no qualms about

Though if you were honest,
Your eyes rested a little longer than they should:
On the thoroughly decent man across the road

Bland he may have been,
But at least he was there

You found yourself inviting him in,
And found trouble and mischief had infected you as well

Self-pity makes you forget the consequences,
Until your senses returned
And you had to admit:
The bad boy had made you into a bad girl,
Without you knowing it

You had left too many marks on the good man across the road,
For your indiscretions to be completely unnoticed by his wife,
To slowly corrupt the happiness that they had had,
And, you liked that you had

Except, you forgot that the bad boy you had liked
Was not the forgiving type,
And, underestimated the lengths a scorned wife would go
To settle scores for impertinence sakes

A recipe that does not bode well for a bad girl trying to cover up an indiscretion;
Or, an otherwise dull man sitting on a large family inheritance,
With a sociopath for a wife in disguise laying in wait,
To seize on any excuse to trigger an early windfall.

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