Got his hand on my throat with every word
Got his squeeze on my pump with every hurt
Got his eye on the prize if ever I’m sure
And with the right ingredients just maybe a cure

Got his hand on the ready to offer comfort
Got my mind on the question though maybe he answered
She’s got her nose in the air as if she’s the expert
And she cries for his heart like a rich man now beggared

Got his tongue on the bottle so maybe it slurred
And my outrage is written though normally censored
But he claims that he loves me and I’m certain she heard
And so I do my best to not blind her with dirt

© Delia Ross. 2019