A Normal Sunday

I'd like to be clear before we begin,
That there is no real lesson to be learned within.
Ahead lies just gibberish, complete worthless crap.
No moral. No Takeaway. No fixed rhyme scheme
For this story, as cautionary as it may seem,
Is merely a tale, what remains of a dream.
But it's also real and could happen to you,
For even the best end up trapped in shoes
So read on if you will, at your own expense,
But know, what's below makes no bloody sense.

It was only one date, until it turned to two,
And at first it was great, and everyone knew,
that we were as one, like a joint in an arm,
She was the top half and I was the arm calf.
The stiff upper wrist that did all the grabbing,
While she did the moving, the painting and stabbing.
But one day I found my skin losing its nerve,
And banging my head invoked tingles and numbness,
Like cymbals that shudder when beaten,
And continue to shiver and shake,
Long after the song ends.

And now I'm her elbow! In a most literal sense,
I hang from her arm.
Like a piece of unusual jewelry,
Like a humerus' good luck charm.
It makes me wonder, am I the only one?
And who could she be packing on her other arm.
her knees, I can't see, and anyone could be,
clinging to her tendon secretly.
I still have faith in one thing though,
The one thing that helps me keep my head up,
I know my situation could be much worse.
I could be the sole of her foot...