As yet free of yeast infections,
But sometimes rather painful,
You stay in my affections,
And I'm markedly less shameful,
With you in my pants.
We've had our share of tribulations,
From operating table to abultions,
But yet to have situations,
That I have not found solutions,
Which are adequate.
Though I call you euphamisms
That paint you as an object,
This has not caused major schisms
Or caused you to reject,
My advances.
And when I plumb your sticky deeps,
(Causing us much pain)
I remind myself of how many sleeps,
Til I never dilate again,
It can't come soon enough.
