To Be Or Not To Be The End

When Mr Darcy brought my hand to his lips Drenched in sweet longing before the scale tips I, fraught with naivety and desire Held trust cast into the furnace of mire Dear friend, two offspring, a dog and a cat In our fineries we waltzed to 'Take That' Unbeknown to me, alas we were three Lipstick etched upon my fine filigree Teeth gnashing, I challenged indiscretion He dismissed my genteel inquisition Contact made with a bedpan appliance Hence, now divorced in act of defiance Dear reader, this ends with no tale of woe On the dating app, I curtsey and go