That sympathy smile
If you asked, they'd run a mile
Although some do like our niche
A certain obscure taste to brag
Whilst eating their celery quiche
We sometimes fit a perverts kick
Another box for them to tick
Sorry you're ill, but we like them sick
That hospital smell, exquisite, and not in good nick
Are we last in line as easier to reach
That smell of disinfectant mixed with toilet bleach
But love does come in strange shapes and sizes
Some wear a mask, for gain in disguises
Others see it through, a rock in your crisis
No matter the option,
No matter what procedure,
if going under the knife
To always hold your hand
The person you love,
will be there for life

JJB