The Bag Lady

We could stay together

Discussing only weather

But I wanted. . .less

Your constant love meticulous

Bordered on the ridiculous

Now we’re just a mess.

Even making soup–too thick, too thin

Just another thing I could not win.

Now we end up in this mire

Of each other we’re now tired

Throwing in the towel now just

Our marriage has bit the dust.



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