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bedtime — <i>hon, I’m crashin’.</i></p><p id="0fb4">Come lay with me and bring my pills.</p><p id="d913">Hey, where ya goin’, babe? Let’s Netflix and chill — <i>still </i>got it, though, I’m just sayin’.</p><p id="80dc">Come on now, quit cryin’ love, you know I’m playin’,</p><p id="f32e">But seriously …<i>what’s for dinner?</i></p><p id="2d59"><i>© <a href="https://steph-thmpsn.medium.com/about-me-47faa8528c4c?sk=8428c44094c906f4f3a41e7a32022233">Steph Thompson</a> 2021</i></p><p id="fde4"><i>Also published in The Haven…</i></p><div id="61eb" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-lyrexist-3ba78cbe6e9d"> <div> <div> <h2>The Lyrexist</h2> <div><h3>A Poem of Bad Intentions</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*7Tiz11sT7JMUlng82zII_A.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="6b5e" class="link-block"> <a hre

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Beck and Call Girl

A Real Housewife Story

Photo by Amin RK on Unsplash

When did I become your beck-and-call girl?

Sweet piece of ass in the kitchen, always bitchin’… … missin’ the way life used to be you and me…

Free and unencumbered, now we’re going under all these responsibilities.

Kids, and shit. How’d we get outnumbered? Two or four, maybe more. I don’t know, I’m losing track…

… wait, what’s that about your back?

Gone out again? Did you say traction?

Guess that’s another month of no action, jog suit fashion, early bedtime — hon, I’m crashin’.

Come lay with me and bring my pills.

Hey, where ya goin’, babe? Let’s Netflix and chill — still got it, though, I’m just sayin’.

Come on now, quit cryin’ love, you know I’m playin’,

But seriously …what’s for dinner?

© Steph Thompson 2021

Also published in The Haven…

Humor
Poetry
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Life
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