You excel in tendencies of aplomb and civility
and I’ve had no complaints about your overall virility.
You aren’t a complainer. I admit you aren’t a mooch.
I love your chili verde and I love the way you smooch.
I adore your sense of humor—your playfulness and jive,
your artistic fervor, your energy and drive.
In short, you are a paragon of fun and versatility,
and in our years together, you have had accountability.
But, your claim to innocence when I begin to holler
due to my discovery of lipstick on your collar,
leads me to declare that my past trust in you is over
now that you have turned into a liar and a rover.
You would truly have to turn into a necromancer
to convince me that you aren’t a cheat and a romancer.
Though your sex appeal’s an asset here in your abode,
it became grounds for divorce when you took it on the road!
Prompts for the day are accountability, drive, mooch and jive. (I think this is the first time in seven years that I’ve written to two prompts that happen to rhyme with each other.)
