Kept in a box
beneath the bed,
ashamed of his profession.

Nestled between
the feathers and the cream,
she seemed to have an obsession.

Exploited for
his only charm,
exacting base hysteria.

Battery low,
haunted by
the time she caught Chlamydia.

Each day the cutlery
are removed from their drawer,
then mercilessly tortured
‘til they beg ‘no more!’

The teaspoons have it worst,
though they silently plea-
their screams are drowned out
by the scalding hot tea!