London street

She can feel the cold, yet feel the heat,
Running in heels down London street.
Cursing the one who made up these shoes,
Cursing herself since they're she one she would chose.
Dressing up for this perfect night,
Everything looked fabulous, everything looked right.
The man who seemed so perfect, the man who seemed so kind,
The man she had thought about, constant on her mind.
The fact that she sat there, for an hour and a half,
Seeing people point at her, seeing people laugh.
He never came, she never saw his face,
And so she had to walk out of there, with anything but grace.
Now she's running down London street,
She can't no longer even feel her own feet.
Running from someone who was never even there,
It was totally stupid, she shouldn't even care.
So how come she sat there, she felt it from the start?
How come he means nothing, and she has a broken heart?