You’ll get me at my lowest now.
And I will often disappoint.
I’m far too disagreeable.
Neurotic, bitter, moody kind.
I’m wonderful on certain days.
On certain days, a werewolf, cursed.
I’m grateful, though, for every hour:
The happy best, the ugly worst.
The things I had, I’ve given up.
Except the worms inside my head.
The ones that gnaw me every time
I get some stable work instead.
I’m often quite indisciplined.
I’ve made me unemployable.
By whining in my poetry
I’ve made me unenjoyable.
So, here’s the deal I have for you.
It’s not romantic in the least.
It isn’t hashtag-valentine’s.
A simple partnership, it is.
If you can make our daily bread,
If you can help our bodies thrive,
I’ll bake for us a daily rhyme.
I’ll help us keep our souls alive.