Sunday Best

You fell in love with my Sunday best.
I knew you would, that’s why I got dressed.
For better or best or for petulance, whichever parable you choose to test.
You fell in love with my Sunday best, a bait-and-switch of my architect.
No ill will or childish jest, but you’re right, I knew how this might end.
How spoiled this soul, this heart a mess.
But it was never really yours to wreck.
We’ll carry on, we’ll find what’s next.
We clean up well in our Sunday best.