Gentleman Poem by Shruti Goswami

I am a gentleman, says he
How, pray, does it matter to me?
You’ve failed, and failed badly my dear,
Given the opportunity, you could not come near,
Did not tamper, nor sabotage,
Mould me to your advantage.
I did fail. I failed badly,
Loved you so,
Truly and madly,
But still:
Given the reason, as you gave to me,
In all its courtesy,
As far as I can see,
If you at all accuse me,
Of being;
What my virtue had forced me to be,
If, while in Rome, I should act as a Roman,
Then pray, by the same logic, am I not a gentle woman?