Tuesday, April 8, 2008

For All I Do (He grants his thanks)

I make his meals;
clean his clothes.

Buy his food;
take care of our baby;
(I wonder if he understands
half of her is his;)
If only I had a boy,
he would be happier.

He grants his thanks;
nary a nice word,
nor a surprise of flowers.

But that's not all I do:

I work two jobs,
and go to school part-time too.

If I ask him for help,
he tells me, it my job;

We argue, I give in
and do what I asked him to;

I'm so tired at the end of the day,
and crawl into bed for some needed sleep;
However, he wants, and I say no;
he whines and tells me
I am not being fair to him;

I give in and hope I haven't
forgotten my pill this morning;
After emptying himself into me,
he grunts thanks
and goes to sleep.

As I fall asleep, filled with him,
I wonder why
why am I so empty?

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

1 comment:

paksimadokleftra said...

hey there! keep it up!i thought you were in my mind while reading this poem