Cactus

I can’t tell when it’s going to hit,

I don’t know what causes it.

All I hope is that it isn’t me,

That leads to you feeling prickly.

I mean we have the perfect life,

No debt, happiness, and free from strife.

So please let me know what eats you,

I can’t fix, if I cannot reach you.

It’s my default to think I’ve done something,

A question that sends you in a spin.

But with nothing to go on, to give me an answer,

I tiptoe on the 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!

©PEDRO-BATPOET 2018