Happy Thanksgiving (poem)

Baby, I'm thankful
for the air, you breathe
the food, you eat;
baby, I'm thankful
I can see you seeing me
knowing that your lap is luxury.
That what you speak
is pure poetry. 
Baby, I'm thankful
for your profile.
For both your thumbs
and every finger,
I'm thankful for your eyes that gaze
that glaze
that graze
that last
and linger.
I'm grateful for your sound mind,
your tastes displayed.
My heart rings for you
as your face's a jewel.
I've prayed
to God
to take this love away,
chalk it up to dust and lust.
She can scream,
she can cry,
she can look you in the eye
while you both lie,
she can say she'll love you until you die,
when every day we all wonder why you stay.
Don't throw shade on my serenade
when I manufacture marinade
for my baby,
walkin' swaggin' stately
my Don
my Trump
my Breaking Window
    In that house, 

        I'm your real widow, 

            the only tended light. 
Because she don't love you

...right?