I worried, sick with apprehension’s taste.
Intestines wound about the dreaded deed
Within my stomach, deep and bitter. Faced
With time elapsing, drawing nigh with speed
What I could naught but do, but do it I
Could not. And so I waited, wearied by
The waiting, wishing I would up and try!
If only to relieve the knot a while.
And then, of course, as courage plucked me up
Enough to say, “Enough!”, and have it out…
I found that you had languished in the rut
As well, but how was I to know? I doubt
A woman and a man will ever learn
It’s best to spill your guts—each one in turn.