It started off ordinary-
You and me, united for such a cause as this
“Love thing”
You would rub my back and I would stroke your neck-
Gently now, still gently-
Both done to calm aching nerves
So the general idea was when one of us was down,
The other one would be there to pull whomever up-
Gently now, still gently-
But there was you, with your “machismo” attitude
(Though you ain’t a bit Latino)
And your God given male pride that told you
‘You could do it on your own, stand on your own”
And somehow, expected me to do the same
And then, there was me, with my naïve heart
And eyes that try to see the good,
Even when the “not so good” is most apparent
Me, I believed that my love was somewhat worthy of reciprocation, appreciation,
And sometimes, validation
That was until I learned of your “loose bowels” syndrome
Where I became your porcelain throne to sit on
Cool you down when you’re burnin’ up
See, I was your Preparation H even when you were the pain in my behind
But how I allowed it, and approached it-
Gently now, still gently-
Allowing you to come into my space, my sanctuary,
And stink it up
With not so much thought as to even spray any air freshener to diminish the scent
You, with your loose bowels- comin’ up into my house-
Never asking, just entering, doing as you pleased, and creeping out
Like I wouldn’t notice it
Leaving with me all of your sh*t to smell and clean up
While I was busy playing “Alice” and “Dr. Phil” simultaneously
Cleaning up your sh*t and making sure you were okay
I just prayed your loose bowels weren’t catching
Because I couldn’t handle piling that much sh*t on one person alone to handle
Because I knew that you would no longer be there to rub my back
Or ask if I needed anything
I knew that ship had sailed, that hope was over
And you had the nerve to ask me how?
Well, my friend- I saw you flush your sh*t, along with my heart, down the toilet.
You and me, united for such a cause as this
“Love thing”
You would rub my back and I would stroke your neck-
Gently now, still gently-
Both done to calm aching nerves
So the general idea was when one of us was down,
The other one would be there to pull whomever up-
Gently now, still gently-
But there was you, with your “machismo” attitude
(Though you ain’t a bit Latino)
And your God given male pride that told you
‘You could do it on your own, stand on your own”
And somehow, expected me to do the same
And then, there was me, with my naïve heart
And eyes that try to see the good,
Even when the “not so good” is most apparent
Me, I believed that my love was somewhat worthy of reciprocation, appreciation,
And sometimes, validation
That was until I learned of your “loose bowels” syndrome
Where I became your porcelain throne to sit on
Cool you down when you’re burnin’ up
See, I was your Preparation H even when you were the pain in my behind
But how I allowed it, and approached it-
Gently now, still gently-
Allowing you to come into my space, my sanctuary,
And stink it up
With not so much thought as to even spray any air freshener to diminish the scent
You, with your loose bowels- comin’ up into my house-
Never asking, just entering, doing as you pleased, and creeping out
Like I wouldn’t notice it
Leaving with me all of your sh*t to smell and clean up
While I was busy playing “Alice” and “Dr. Phil” simultaneously
Cleaning up your sh*t and making sure you were okay
I just prayed your loose bowels weren’t catching
Because I couldn’t handle piling that much sh*t on one person alone to handle
Because I knew that you would no longer be there to rub my back
Or ask if I needed anything
I knew that ship had sailed, that hope was over
And you had the nerve to ask me how?
Well, my friend- I saw you flush your sh*t, along with my heart, down the toilet.
