Our wedding was so sweet
Lilacs in the springtime
I can still smell them now
Along with the stench of raw onions from my hands
That you now find revolting,
When all I was trying to do was cook your suppers,
With nothing to look forward to all day long,
No escapism for me.
I have never been the type of brain - dead woman to read trashy Mills and Boons romances
I prefer Flaubert, but I do not have the time,
Your shirts need ironing, your throat needs constricting...
Maybe I will find my Mills and Boon happy ending after all,
It's called divorce.
Reshmi Bhowmik
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wife-s-tale/
