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This a poem about a person being sad that their significant other didn't make the romantic date.
I look at the feast that I prepared.
The candles only sputtering now.
Tears roll down my face stinging.
They sting with betrayal.
Here I meticulously prepared food.
I carefully laid rose petals along the table.
And there I waited with a bottle of red grape wine in hand.
I glace up as he clock strikes one.
Fed up and frustrated I clear the table.
I gather the melted wisps of the candles.
I extinguish them and they hiss.
Hissing a snake's warning.
I clear the table of the food.
The vestiges of my hard work go unnoticed.
I sweep the rose petals away.
I crush them into the floor.
I take the wine with me to bed.
I take a swig of the precious red liquid ecstasy.
I let it burn all the way down.
I let it quell the fiery angry dragon of my stomach.
I pick up a damaged rose petal and chew it.
Then lay down drunkenly content and wish you never to return.