Who Says&;#063; (Ode to a perfect husband)

This poem was written, tongue in cheeck, for and about the love of
my life, Peter Turnbull.

How can you say,
This is right or this is wrong?
What right have you to right or wrong!
And if I'm bad, how bad am I, between which two points does your
reference lie?

The truth, not facts, I hear you scream.
But truth lies somewhere inbetween and how often, just to satisfy, am I
forced, in fact, to tell a lie?

Our judgement day is drawing near,
I feel like mines already here!
Every act, deed, thing I do, I have to justify, to you.

What is it like to be perfect and live a blameless life?

One thing I know, I'll never find out, living mine as your wife!