Because you lounge about
In horizontal mode and
Always fall asleep
With a beer in one hand and
A whisky in the other.
Because you fart a lot
And your breath is bad,
You smell of cigarettes
And your shoes are never
Shiny nor your clothes
Ever neat and you have
A temper which you do not
Keep to yourself and you
Smell, generally, of the
Pub.  And when you rub
your hands on me your
Fingers leave their marks
I always have small, round,
Brown bruises on my
Arm, little spots of dirty
Colour on my skin.  Yes
You are loud and always
The life and soul of
Any party.  No.  You are
Definitely not refined.
Because you spread your big
Body all across the bed
And always leave me little
Space.  Because you groan
And moan and talk in
Your sleep and dig your
Elbows deep into me I
Don't sleep well. Pain
Is never far behind
Wherever you are, it follows
You like a faithful dog.
No.  You are definitely not
Gentle.  Rather clumsy in
Fact, with your wooden grasp
And the hard rasp of your
Chin.  And  I can never
Wake you in the morning, you:
Never home till after
Midnight, in the morning
A sight - your eyes
Red-rimmed, your soul bleary
As an old man.  I try and
Love you as I can but
Exasperation is my reward.
You are a hard man to
Live with.  A hard man to
Love.  I might as well give
Up because you insult me
And laugh about it,
Because you assault my
And as if this were not enough
You spend all your time
Elsewhere giving of yourself
To strangers
Never to your wife.
At least now I
Can fuck-off
And lead my own life.
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