Micro Poetry

Wounded Marriage

On the kitchen fridge was the napkin
soaked with blood of disgust,
My marriage experienced voilence
though it wasnt physical.
If my marriage were a child
this would be child abuse.
He was asthetic, I was narcissistic
masked by his prolific love
and the vows we made on the wedding altar
started to seem like little butter
whilst I wanted peanut butter
and got it from a man named Walter.
Isn’t it amazing that the priest that
brought us together has a son
who is a lawyer?
What went wrong?
Sex or the everytime vex
This marriage is wounded,
I and my husband are the thugs that
beat it up!

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