Crossed Hearts

What a simple board game,
That could be decided on fame.
But his choice wasn't very tame,
push it towards the fair dame.

The roots of which she did not know,
Beat him down until he did not flow.
Molding his dreams as if they're dough,
Made to fall over after one small blow.

She had no real desire,
To bend him over and call him a liar.
When he picked the rose but got a briar,
He cried to think of the prior.

But no aid made it to both sides,
Broken down by the tides.

And what was he to make,
Of what he could not take.

Suffering plagued both their heads,
If only they shared the same beds.