Our three-month romance
is less tunnel of love,
more roller coaster,
filled with heart-pounding climbs
as sex becomes sex, sex, SEX,
gut-punching downhill drops
his fidelity seems suspect.
But I’m strapped in for the thrill,
still think he’s The One.
Crabs can come from public toilets, right?
He’s truly good to me
except maybe
that one time he
held me up against the wall
by my neck
in a jealous rage
over a guy friend
who calls everyone,
“Honey.”
He was so sorry after.
How can I be upset,
when he just loves me so hard.
Except now Mr. Undercover
is investigating me
watching my eating
too closely,
time for me to be strong,
Love is a Battlefield!
I rise up
kick him out of my life,
protect my secrets
so much better
than I ever did my self-respect.
Alone at last
I climb back aboard
my merry-go-round relationship
The truly dysfunctional one
I have
with food.