As a poet who is a vaccine and pill
For societal wellness, I went with will
To hear her plight:
"O, my husband seem to have changed.
He is just now a chronic melange.
Before the honeymoon,
We sqeezed all ice creams.
My voice was filled with chaotic love screams.
Like multifaceted beauteous streams.
I didn't rethink it a mere dream.
We used to go shopping.
He took me marketing.
Treated me like a Nigerian film princess,
O, how I loved those days.
He called me sweetie,
He called me Lovie,
He called me darling
And said I was a lily.
'Honey, honey, honey'
Were his words every single day.
We had money.
Our love multiplied day-to-day.
Not by arithmetic;
But by geometric.
Our wedding was 'plus que parfait."
What a certain Juliette
Would call "one in town"
Our wedding surpassed that of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.
Our cake, was baked in heaven.
O, untill after the honeymoon;
When our love river went dry.
Now I cry, cry and cry
For our marriage life is a hell on earth.
My husband is no more sweet.
He no longer types sweet, sweet tweets.
He spoiled like Korona in the world today;
After the honeymoon, my husband became a deadly virus.
Everywhere, save upon my house does rise the moon.
Blissful tunes are now bittersweet dunes.
O, O, O
Low and low
I seem to flow
Down and brown.
Does my beauty no more glows?
I hate that honeymoon.
Yes, I cry because all went well
Before the honeymoon;
But all turned a hell
After our honeymoon."
Thus, she ceased her nailing worried namby-pamby story.
Being a pill and pillow
To her glorious glow,
The poet wrote a verse that made her grow
Determined and mined to keep strong.
She was my friend, thenceforth.
Thousands upon thousands
Live ephemeral basins
Of sweetness before the honeymoon;
But the crying voices after the honeymoon
Pains so much.
Yes, have you ever thought what comes after the honeymoon?