You cry on white sleeves

You cry on white sleeves,
Those which aren't quite mine,
They come from he who knows another,
The other's clean and fine.

Groom yourself you terrible man,
Why art thou leaving it be,
A coat of fur to hide the hate,
That brims about the tee.

Horrible thoughts surround the hand,
That holds her closer yet,
A day ago and seconds more,
Had they - the couple - met.

Who are they now, the two embracing,
The motions atout and in the lieu,
They together brought about,
A future binding not short of true.