Passive-Aggressive Love Poem

I get that you’re a little thick,
A little slow, a little quick,
Some things about me make you sick.
Love, we've been played that age-old trick.

Remember when you had the dick?
It made you proud, it made me sick.
Does that still cut you to the quick?

We’re two faces of a coin;
We never face, we never join.

If I were you, I’d never stick.
Why don’t you leave, you dense-born hick?