(After I remember when it was me who made her skin flush)

T'was a morn last year,
a beautiful day,
the breeze was fresh with spring,
the phone it rang,
horribly jarring. Ring.. ring..

My ex lover it was -
Aghast, she mourned
Bathroom facilities; broken.
Tears once that she'd cried for me
long since had dried when we'd
shouted our viler emotions.

Her fluids salty as brine,
yellower'n sunshine,
pooled languid in the bowl.
Work tasks, they awaited
my breakfast belated,
many jobs for today were my goal.

I should have declined,
would have left grief behind,
could have hidden
my deep inner scar.
Simp-ler t'would have been,
to have said I'd just seen,
a vandal abusing my car.

But I would not -
no could not
refuse to aid my ex-lover.
To her palace I ran,
with my heart in my hand,
and a screwdriver in the other.

A merciful act,
and managed quick
It cost me n'er a shilling.
T'was simple and slick -
the ballcock was stuck -
and now her cistern: filling.


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