She doesn’t deserve you.
The way you make excuses for her
When she misses an appointment
Sleeping through your texts and calls.
“It’s ok, it was a last minute arrangement anyway.”
How she ignores your texts
At her convenience
You don’t care about her
When you don’t call for a day.
“I miss you; you mean so much to me. Don’t ever leave.”
The way you fuss over her modesty
When she’s in one of those skimpy outfits
Scrambling to cover her up in a jacket.
“I get uncomfortable when men leer at her.”
How you drop your work obligations to
Accompany her to the doctor’s
When you learn
“When’s your doctor’s visit? I’ll take a day off; we can have dinner near your place after.”
The way you scrimp on your necessities
But splurge on a bespoke painting
An electronic piano
For her birthday.
“She’s arty and creative, and such a great pianist. Her family gave their upright piano away years back; I want her to have something to practise on.”
You tell me
That I respond to your texts at lightning speed
And it’s nice how we talk about all and sundry
That it’s cool how I do covers of pop songs without sheet music
And I have a lovely voice
That the new dress looks good on me
But you like me best when I’m in jammies
That you may appear brusque and brazen
But like me, you’re not afraid to cry
You hide behind
The comfort of your
Reluctant to render
If I’m only a worthy recipient of
But not your presence
You don’t deserve me either.