I can’t tell when it’s going to hit,
I don’t even know what causes it.
All I hope is that it isn’t me,
That leads to you feeling a little prickly.
I mean, we have the perfect life,
No debt, and happy, free from strife.
So please let me know what now eats you,
I cannot fix, if I cannot reach you.
It’s male default to think I’ve done some ‘thing’,
A question that sends you into a spin!
But with nothing to go on, to give me an answer,
I tiptoe eggshells, like your private dancer.
My male gene tells me that I might have caused that frown,
So I’ve cleaned the house, cooked and a bath awaits to turn frown – upside down.
Candles are on, soft music mixes with the steam, Soak,
I’ll keep the door closed and get wine…you go have a damn good scream!