You iron my next day work clothes each prior night, 
cook a splendid and well prepared meal for me daily, 
keep my house immaculately clean, do my every bidding, 
strike up conversation at my wishing, 
try your best to uplift my spirit when I’m down, 
make love to me when I want in any fashion I want, Yet
You don’t make me happy

I’ve seen gloom in those pupils,
You’ve tried your best, but success eludes your strongest grasp
You’ve searched me out, explored many corners and crevices
You’ve dug deep, but you just can’t seem to reach
That one part, the switch that lights my soul

Many different hats I’ve seen you wear
You’ve secured a fleeting smile on occasions 
and indeed I did witness your world light up during these brief moments
Your frustration is counteracted by your determination to find the way

This morning I see you by the stove preparing your heart, 
flipping your best sunny-side up 
Yet I am full without savoring your meal 
and would not even taste the goodies
With your face taut, you silently run 
to our sleeping cage to withdraw my new black shoes, 
which you shined with your favorite snow-white dress
I can see my near mirror-perfect reflection 
in the gloss of the well meticulous shine.  
I smile at myself.
You smile at gaining one small victory
I never smile at you

I enter the shower to wash away 
the remnants of last night’s flesh feast
You jump in, anxious to recreate the passion 
that creates excitement in me for you
Indeed you are every man’s desire 
and my erection shows my appreciation
I penetrated, hoping to find you, 
hoping the feeling would last so I could justify us
The moment pass quickly with only my fluid distaste left inside you
You seem satisfied at another victory gained  
The water wash you away from me, but not my sin
I leave to get dressed and find solace in the day

I know you’re sitting home patiently awaiting my return.  
Somehow, this and that keep me tied up  
My favorite meal is sitting on the intimate oak table in the dying room
Your love-making ready to claim me with a fury
I’m busy, so busy doing and doing 
Until my meal gets cold and passion loses its feel
Then I’ll return home to hide in sleep