”The P-Word”
They were two peas in a pod, as odd it might just sound,
maybe not in size or ounces - but it’s what’s inside that counts.
Love is often blind to how things may seem here though
with her buxom figure underpinning a pea-green coat.
She took a meat free oath to save herself for the right one
and felt that the time was right for shelling her nylons.
The flesh of her ripe pod opened up to accommodate
her lover and consummate some of his sausage paste.
It’s fun til the condom breaks at the snap of a band
proving he’s not exactly a banger, more a flash in the pan.
Sweetpea’s carrying baggage now, seeds will soon be born,
thinking with his meat and veg he never gave it food for thought.
The silly sausage grew forlorn at her constant talk of kids
his patience worn as thin as the red leatherette they’d always sit.
How could they afford a bigger patch for them all in the offset
when the walls were appealing more than his prospects?
They can’t all pour into one bed, though she insists that they could
once she opens up to him and starts spilling her guts.
Things were too mushy, the P-word changed the two so much
the dude she loved showed himself for the meathead he truly was.
A stupid fucking waste of skin, a weak link that tried her patience
she realised she hated the bratwurst than any other guy she’d dated.
Her mind was made up, it was time to cut him off and sever their ties
he could never provide to make ends meat if he was empty inside.
He said she was highly strung and difficult to always appease
so as short and as sweet as her pod, she snapped at porky to leave.
Caught in the freezing glare of his ice queen, all around him was gone,
even the finest cuts turn rotten if they’re left out for too long.
The house where they once chilled together became a pressure cooker
when her lover found himself on the back burner and left to suffer.
He felt the color drain from his face at the height of his despair
and ended his life with a pop, as he deprived his kids of theirs...