Freedom From Martyrdom
As I carried a glass of hot milk at night,
I believe has Tryptophan, helps sleep tight.
Passed by his door slightly ajar, hand on mouse
Eyes glued to the lap top, pin dropp silence in the house.
I promised myself to confront him next day
And say in an even and firm tone this is no way.
Next morning at nine o clock rang his cell phone.
Checking his mail he muttered please leave me alone.
Hesitantly he took the call, and raised his voice in irritation,
What, a call from centre for de addiction and rehabilitation?
Glared at me, if only looks could kill; you need help you do;
Please do I as I say, I blurted, or else I am sure to leave you.
He didn’t even pause, said allow me to make reservations.
Totally unprepared, was aghast at his curt suggestion.
I kept mum feeling defeated and a lot helpless.
This case is closed, beyond reason and hopeless.
I sought solace in the wisdom of a girl friend.
After hearing my tale, gave me strong coffee blend.
The point is I doubt if he will take any notice
If you make a case for
bigamy and call the police.
With his eyes off you, dear now finally you have freedom.
Make most of it and forget about theatrics and martyrdom.
Let’s weigh the pros and cons; there are some perks
Those come with a married tag, think before dumping the jerk.
Make a life independent of him, travel and follow your dream
Now, you smile, come lets go to the bar for Bailey's Irish cream
Be glad for small mercies: its just a mouse trap.
What if it were a woman fluttering her eye lids on his lap
Why care who sits on his lap and where his hands are,
In mock exasperation we chortled in the lounge bar..
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Added by Poetry Lover
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