House
This a house of unused tools
Bought for a purpose and then
Filed in a rusty toolbox
To be never used again
For with the next project
I’d frantically search around
I knew where I’d left them
But they never could be found
This is house of bodged jobs
not that i didn’t have the will
but some how my enthusuiasm
didn’t compensate for lack of skill
and i huffed and i puffed
did the best i could
but somehow it all looked
somewhat less than good
This is a house of frustrations
because in the end
The one that I loved
Became my best friend
And all passion just went
No romance at all
So now we sit and look at
Our badly painted walls
In this house of suppressed passions
A house of a moody man
Testosterone driven but
Just doing what he can
To hide the nagging need
That is always always there
For the act of love
And for tender loving care
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