The prompt for April 8 is another love poem - this time using metaphors to tell the love story. It seems I used allusions more than metaphors.
Her mother referred to him as Pinocchio
but she was naive, her beau’s nose was normal
and his pants were not burned away.
Her father warned he was a Shylock,
his purse strings tighter than an anal sphincter
but she was naive and blushed, “Oh, Dad!”
“He’s a Lothario, Sis, he’ll break your heart,”
and she cried and stopped speaking to her brother.
Naive she was, he’d never betray her.
She loved loving him, her mind was blind
and so they married, which worked
until the day she lost her naivety.