she, my devil and me

"how was india?", she smilingly asked
when i met her for dinner last night.
after briefly describing my wonderful trip
i started to feel a tad slight.

for she'd launched forth on how she ensures
her hubby's home by 7 each night,
on how she established before moving here
that he won't travel, come what might.

that he will spend every single moment
with her and the kids, and keep the family tight.
"you poor thing, your hubby leaves you alone
4-days-a-week?", she mocked outright.

her painted lips parted, a sympathetic sigh,
mascara-ed pity filled her eyes, large and bright.
she had touched a raw nerve, and is it a surprise
that all i wanted was her head, to bite.

"i pretend to myself that he's my weekend keep,
so we still like each other!", i tried to made light.
but she persisted, that she would never
"settle for this, because it's just not right."

i told her this was a short-term compromise
for our long-term goals to remain in sight.
but she insisted till, to keep from feeling envy
and definitely anger, i had to really fight.

so the devil in me tells me to say the next time
"your excessive control must surely give him a fright.
with no time to himself, he must be mentally drained
i think the poor man needs, from you, respite."

but to stoop like this, does it make me feel better?
i wish i could say yes, but no, not a mite.
and anyway, at the the end who are we to say
that this is wrong or that is right?