PB & Spinach Abuse (3 Poems)
PART 1 — The Vows
Another PB & Spinach sandwich. From my bitch of a wife. Same I had for lunch and breakfast. And I’ll have the same tonight
You might be saying “Be nice. That’s your loving wife” Pssh hardly. I’m allergic to peanuts and I hate spinach. And she knows this.
That’s why our wedding vows clearly say that she will be preparing all of our meals each day. We honor vows, it’s our Catholics faith. Not like you bastard protestants who fake.
Back to my bitch of a wife. Hives and vomit are my fight. My work days and work nights, plagued by ridicule and spite
Pulling out a sandwich at lunch time, thinking perhaps a different sandwich, I pine. No… just PB & spinach, while my coworkers are behind, always mocking me through this crime.
And my hives and vomit have gotten so bad, my coworkers labeled a toilet for me “crappy puke lab”. Oh the jokes and laughter that they have, at my expense… oh these years, so drab.
I don’t blame them though. The Lord is testing me, through my bitch of a wife and her cruelty. It’s her fault. What will I do? What can I do? Something drastic, you’ll all see.
PART 2 — The Climax
You cheated on ME. Back in 1992. In Middle school. When I was dating you.Under the bleachers with Amanda Hoe. Her last name is actually Hoe; fitting though.
You were MY boyfriend, and I caught you kissing her. I swore that day I’d get even with you for sure. So I waited. As you changed in time, I changed with you, in a way to entice you to marriage, lowering your defenses too.
My plan worked in our binding Catholic vows, that only I could provide you with sustenance. SO yeah… you take that PB and spinach sandwich, I made you my bitch.
You took me for a ride those… 35 years ago. We’ve been married for so long. But, I never forgave you and Ms. Hoe. I’ve been doing this to you, not giving you any sex, and then laughing myself to sleep for so long, you caught in my hex.
Perhaps it’s time to… no… F that, I’m having too much fun. Oh he’s home! Why are you yelling?! Whatever do you mean, hon? Did you not enjoy your lunch, that I prepared from my heart & soul? Try your luck with my dinner, here stick more peanut butter in your hole.
The climax is here now, let’s have it all out. You’re sick in mind and body, and yes, I DO know what you’re talking about. I’m not the bad guy here, the villain is you! You’re a filthy cheater! Tell the truth!
“Fine” he says to me. “I don’t know how you knew!”It was that one time with Amber, I replied “Amber who?” You mean Amanda, right? From 35 years ago? Wait, there’s ANOTHER woman? I’m happy your sick has been slow.
I raised my voice, I called him a son of a bitch! He put his hands to me, and said “to keep my mother out of this!”. I will not. I will not. I poisoned him with food, now with my lips. I can’t believe he hit me. So, I punched him in the dick.
Then, we went to therapy (to be continued…).
PART 3 — What Worked for Us
Therapy is the way. That’s what they say. We stand next to each other. With a hateful gaze
We’re commanded to sit, cuz therapy is the way. That’s what they say, so we decided to behave. We need to respect one another. We need boundaries. We need to forgive one another. Repentance is brave.
An abuser is a bully. An abuser drives with pain; wrecking lives and at times souls, never to refrain.
Though they’re after the weak as their prey. They are weak themselves, so they give up on restraint. A victim needs to process. A victim needs to forgive. A victim needs to heal, so that the victim may live.
A victim needs to be strong, allow new beliefs to form. Pray they find guidance, so that they are not victims any more. Once a victim, now deserves better; deserves grace. Therapy is the way. That’s what they say.
But, we only stayed in therapy for a day. We both got up, and both said the same thing. Processing is the way, but not for us. This is NOT what couples should do (hotline: 1–800–799–7233), but we’re trying an unconventional trust.
You’ve been great counselor person, we wish you no fuss. But, instead of love right now, we prefer blood lust. We don’t want your prayers, your counsel, or your sage. Instead we have decided to lock ourselves in a steel cage.
We will wrestle each other to decide who is right. There will be a winner, no matter how many days or nights. Punches were thrown, each other were thrown. Balls were kicked. Asses were bruised. Metal chairs were used. Heads were split.
The barbed wire and two by fours came out. Acrobatics performed, balls were grabbed, and boobs flopped about. Blood was shed. Throats punched, DDT’s done. Headlocks, body slams, it actually became fun.
In the end, no ONE won, but two. We went to the hospital, and in a week we were brand new. We both said “sorry,” we both meant it. A loving marriage may now begin. NOT what couples should do, but it worked for us. never give up on healing.