Dinner's in the Oven

 

    And after a long day at work

    All I want is a stiff from the fridge,

    Instead a pink post-it calls me a jerk

    And says dinner is cold like our marriage.

 

    We used to go out every night

    And, god, you knew how to blow;

    But now it’s all hot air and fights

    About my best bud, Señor Cuervo.

 

    You aren’t the girl I used to know "

    Her a*s was much less fat, for one,

    And I remember when the guys would go:

    “Goddamn, you’re one lucky son of a gun.”

 

    Your cooking might be pretty s****y, honey,

    But I know I give it a run for its money.

Author's Note

A Shakespearean sonnet. I thought I'd have some fun messing around with the traditional themes of sonnets, namely the idealization of love.

Reviews

[Dennis A. Clark]

Nice humorous one.

Not all lines are in strict iambic pentameter, but some certainly are.