We have a perfect marriage.

We have a perfect marriage. I'm married, he's perfect.

There are times I think that
I'll lay all his faults in front of him,
combining this with threatening to scream,
to take a lover and to
drop out of the PTA because
why try to save the school
when going grant-assisted was their idea
anyway.
And there are times I think that
striking back
isn't really in my nature, so I
potter in the herbaceous border and recall,
just occasionally,
that I
and I alone,
can pick out the plants that are
poisonous.