Your back, just like a habit,
that I've tried years to stop;
you weren't content beneath me,
you wanted on the top.
To wear the pants and strut,
to have the final say;
but every time you talked,
your foot got in the way.
I was happy when you left me,
the stress of you was gone;
the bickering, the quarrels,
they just went on and on and on.
Without you, I had peace,
now you come groaning back;
cut out the whining wails,
and please, cut me some slack.
There can't be two alpha males,
forget it, your a broad!
and two similar attractions,
can make one super odd.
Topic of this poem: unrequited love
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Comments about this poem (Super odd. by David Lessard )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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