Can We Fix It?

This is a Triple Rhyme Poem.

For an added multimedia experience, song titles and film/television titles are hyperlinked to their respective audio files or summary pages on GrooveShark.com or IMDB.com respectively.

This poem is a continuation of the a previous poem entitled “What Happened to Us?”

The man in this situation has reconsidered his resignation letter as being his wife’s husband.

Let’s see what happens…

_________________________

“Can We Fix It?

© 2012 Tyrone Turner

All rights reserved.

Last night, I saw Sidney Portier’s and Bill Cosby’s 70’s film called Let’s Do it Again.

This morning I heard the Staple Singers’s song Let’s Do It Again and it made me shake my head and grin.

When you keep hearing a message over and over it must be an omen so I have to take heed and pay attention.

—

I said a lot in my note to called “What Happened to Us?”

But I’ve been thinking and trying to salvage our marriage is a must.

We’re either going to solve our problems or it will be ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

—

Divorce may be the end result but I’m willing to give our relationship another try.

I love us and the kids being together as I am by nature a Family Guy.

Of course I made mistakes that I approached you and confessed about and I’ll tell you why.

—

When trust is betrayed it is hard to restore.

The hurt tears at your heart and you feel so empty at your core.

The impulse is to throw everything away because you don’t want to cry any more.

—

I want to hold you and hear all about your heart like if I Was Your Girlfriend.

But I can’t’ do that for you as I am the one the committed the carnal sin.

Making love to another woman after our heated argument and drinking too many shots of gin.

—

Sometimes your eyes are full of hearts and other times they shoot daggers.

I am humbled by my error in judgment and am no longer one that swaggers.

The gravity and profundity of the hurt I caused as I watch my reputation crumble and shatter.

—

You told me that I wasn’t there for you when you were down.

I tried to be upbeat but in private I uncontrollably shed the Tears of a Clown.

I envisioned you in a designer fashion and not in a hospital gown.

—

I was angry that you said I didn’t care and wasn’t giving my all.

I used to curse to myslef and ask where you got the gall.

You saying I prayed for your death got me drinking a lot and my drinks tended to be way too strong and tall.

—

Hindsight is 20/20 but you were sick a lot, emotionally fragile, and as mean as can be.

You were so secretive about what you were going through so no one else knew about your ailments but me.

Compounded with the pressure of work and a leaner household budget I felt like I was drowning in a perilous, shark-infested sea.

—

I understand your anger and frustration but I was your whipping boy and suffered your tirades and wrath.

A person can take but so much and it all adds up when you do the math.

Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Right, but of we agree to take a left we’ll be on a new path.

—

When a bone is broken it becomes stronger than it was before.

I got a lot of love to give and I want to give you more.

A fresh new start with all the trimmings is what I have in store.

—

There are conditions though if you choose to accept.

I want us to have an up-front agreement so that no one is surprised or becomes upset.

Let’s avoid either of us going into this blind and then later having regret.

—

First you have to find a hobby for yourself.

When your health got bad and even since you improved you put your interests on the shelf.

You must find a release so you can have better emotional health.

—

Secondly, don’t bring your anger towards coworkers or work-related projects home to me and the children.

You tend to get ticked-off easily and we have to walk on egg shells because the line between you being calm and flipping-out is so very, very thin.

My escape from your tyranny was to put on earphones and let my classic CDs spin.

—

Thirdly you can’t expect us to constantly have to clean up your mess.

After a long day of work and school me and the kids have or own personal stress.

You seemed to think it was alright to leave the kitchen busted when you cooked I guess.

—

Fourth and finally you can’t be a bitch to me then think I want I make love to you whenever you feel like it.

My soldier doesn’t march when I am called names and cursed at, don’t you get it?

A man can take but so much of this foul-mouthed shit.

—

Fair is fair and it goes both ways so we have to make sure that we can say we found Love on a Two Way Street.

If it is one-sided it would be like a cheeseburger deluxe with no meat.

Think about what you expect of me going forward and we’ll talk about it to see if we’re on the same beat.

—

If our relationship was a cake batter I would ask, “Can we mix it?”

A Tribe Called Quest asked, Can I Kick It?

But I’ll as you in the words of Bob the Builder: “Can We Fix It?”

What Happened to Us?

Sometimes good things go bad.

You just wonder what led to the party ending.

This poem sheds some light how things can go downhill.

Sometimes a man gets fed up too.

When he does, there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.

To give you a multimedia experience, television show titles and song titles have been hyperlinked to their respective info pages and audio files on IMDB.com and GrooveShark.com respectively.

_________________________

“What Happened to Us?

© 2012 Tyrone Turner

All rights reserved.

You used to have a twinkle in your eye whenever you said my name.

Now you frown whenever you think of me.

We used to make passionate love.

Over and over and over again.

We used to be all over each other all of the time.

Our love-making sessions were such intense, playful intimate encounters.

Now we have sex once in a while and it is very businesslike – devoid of TLC and passion.

I said we have sex because it isn’t love-making.

We just work to get it off and to finish off the other so we can get back to the separate lives we now live even though we’re under the same roof.

It is so odd to live with a stranger under the same roof.

Yes, I am guilty of violating the trust of our marriage by cheating.

I didn’t simply want something extra on the side.

I’m not that type of man.

I just wanted to have something like we used to have.

I have no excuses to justify my actions and poor choices that have forever changed our relationship, but I need you to understand a few things.

—

Have You Seen Her? My wife – the love of my life?

My heart aches so as if I was stabbed in the chest multiple times with a long, sharp knife.

When I met you, you were full of energy and full of hope.

But even before I did my dirt you started to complain and mope.

I understand the personal issues you were going through were painful, stressful and you literally had bitter pills to swallow.

It killed me to see you morph into a pessimist and in your misery you chose to wallow.

You used to have dreams and we used to stay up late talking about individual and collective goals.

Now when I walk into the house I tread carefully upon the carpet because your moodiness makes it feel like a walk across a bed of hot coals.

I did my best to be your husband, friend and the strong one for our household.

I didn’t give you service with a smile so I wore my best poker face to hold back tears – truth be told.

You used to cook-up delicious meals and keep the house squeaky clean.

Now you order a lot of Chinese take-out and pizza and our home looks thrown-about and is far from pristine.

Dishes pile up in the sink and recycling spills out of jam-packed bags.

Sometimes the floor is littered with receipts and torn price tags.

When you moved in I told you that I had three simple house rules that had to be followed so we can live happily ever after.

They were straight-forward and simple enough to avoid any misunderstandings, bad feelings or an unforeseen disaster.

POD was for Peace-On-Demand because when I cross the threshold of our home I want quiet, calm, and comfort against the hostile outside world.

Just want to kick-back, relax and chill while from the day’s rigors I can unfurl.

FOD was for Food-On-Demand as you were took cook the meals if you were home for the day and I was out and about.

No reason to have fast food, pizza, or Chinese take-out.

AOD was for Ass-On-Demand because that Brown Sugar punani of yours was so finger-licking-good.

I used to put you in a School Daze, because Dean Big Brother Almighty said, “Do it to her good like a Gamma Man should!”

When you get married it is for better or worse.

Times used to get so tough I used to recite “My God! My God! Why has thou forsaken me?” as my favorite verse.

My dreams were deferred like the title of Langston’s poem yet I did what I had to do and never harbored any resentment or anger towards you.

I really was in love with you and I was 100% in your corner because you were My Boo.

What hurts me as to this very day you allege that it was my wish that your illness took you out.

Different Strokes for different folks but what in the hell are you talking about?

My bride and mother of my children.

I have stood by you and never wavered when a good number of people would have cut and run.

I am not blaming you for anything that I did wrong but I want you to understand.

I am not perfect but my mother birthed me to be a man.

I have remained in the kitchen when your anger boiled red hot.

We have been through a lot so no matter what happens next please accept this bouquet of Forget Me Nots.

—

Time heals most wounds so how long is it going to take to mend the wound your heart has suffered at my hands?

It may never heal. It has been a couple of years now with no signs of getting better.

Sometimes I Wish I never met you. Then I would not feel the shame of having done what I did to you and to see you so hurt.

Please don’t continue to keep our kids in the dark about the reality of things.

They are smart children and you don’t give them enough credit.

They are smarter, tougher and more resilient than you think.

A mother’s love and understanding of her child runs deep.

Fathers know if their children are mentally tough enough and mature enough to handle hard facts.

I hope that one day you accept the reality of how our lives have been changed.

We both need time to think. We need to separate.

If we just never feel the way you used to feel we need to get divorced.

No more dancing around the big-ass elephant in the room.

I just don’t want to do this anymore.

This is my resignation letter.

I quit being your husband.

Both of our hearts ache, are scarred, broken, festers and oozes pus.

My darling wife, what happened to us?