MY HSUBAND IS MY BED

Adel Bishtawi

I should complain,
But complain I will not,
All that remains are false,
Or else are in doubt,
But I can confirm,
To all women out there
Sex and headaches,
Are a married woman’s lot,
If all he wants me for is sex,
I’d say he over-married,
Should consider a divorce,
And just across from the diner,
Buy himself a 24 hour-ready,
Sex doll from China.

In twenty years I cooked,
Fourteen thousand meals,
The plates I washed are ten times that,
But since we got married he cleaned the kitchen twice,
And cooked only once,
And though the meal was minus,
I paid a full price –
Twice,
And the tip was charged thrice.
There in bed I felt strangely weak,
In vain I tried to scream,
My voice failed, or else mere squeaks,
And walking was on crutches,
For more than two weeks.

Maybe I’m wrong,
But here’s where I’m right:
I need a man,
To listen to what’s being said,
And I am married,
But my husband is my bed.
To this marriage is there a possible fix?
I think not but don’t ask him, please,
“Of course,” He’ll say,
“The tried one;
What else?”
Sex, sex, sex and sex.

Image credit: HuffPost

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