Nancy L. Meek
LITTLE THINGS MEAN A LOT
I never should have married you,
Samuel Oliver Blakeney, but…
Somehow, I couldn’t stop myself.
Now, I’m stuck in the same old rut…
Picking up all your smelly clothes
You scatter all over the house,
Doing the chores which should be yours.
Why did I marry you, you louse?!
I asked my mom to lunch with us
And you swore you’d watch your language;
But when we all sat down to eat,
You said, “Here’s your f_____ sandwich!”
As you see, I can’t even write
The filth that comes out of your mouth!
This, then, is why I’m leaving you,
You and your filthy, stinking house!
I can’t remember the last time
You put my wishes before yours
Or did any chivalrous thing,
Like holding chairs or holding doors;
And let’s not even talk about
The five-day stubble on your face,
The baggy pants that show your crack
Or the paychecks lost on a race.
Don’t even think I’ve forgotten
Your many weekends with the boys,
Coming home with your whiskey breath
Then throwing up with all its noise…
Then jumping in the sack with me
As if nothing was even wrong;
But have I got news for you, Sam,
This is not the place I belong!
I should have paid more attention
To all the signs you’d given me…
The little things that mean a lot,
But stupid me, I couldn’t see…
My leather bags you had engraved,
Before you made a mess of me,
Stand waiting with the plaque that reads:
“WITH ALL MY LOVE!” from S.O.B.
©Copyright 1997 by Nancy L. Meek