Taking Chris's advice that maybe we should try one of each (most of us appear to be going for rhyme mocking free verse)
At first she thought she could live with it –
the insistence on parallel cutlery,
the meticulous sheet-folding and bed-making,
the obsession with symmetrical paintings,
even the rigorously-timed foreplay.
But then - Oh God! – he started writing poetry,
highly-structured formal verse
with perfect pitch and perfect rhyme
and perfectly accentuated syllables.
Let your mind run free, she sobbed,
cast off your shackles and scream.
But he couldn’t.
She keeps his book in the kitchen.
It tilts the table at a slight angle.
Last edited by Peter Goulding; 10-04-2013 at 02:54 PM.
Reason: as per Matt Q's suggestion below - sexual inadequacy!
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