Two beds or not two beds

I hope most readers will find this poem ever so slightly absurd!

Two beds or not two beds?
A question I’d often wonder.
Whether ’tis right, after all these years
To cleave ourselves asunder.

Off we went to bed one night
And what a night it was.
I ended up in A&E
And my mind was made up because….

He tossed, he turned, he snored so loud
I couldn’t sleep a wink.
The decibels of his ‘pneumatic drill’
Made my spirits sink.

I lay awake in state of flux,
Not knowing what was to come.
I soon found out. He jerked his knee
Which connected with me bum.

He dreamt that he was Djokovic
And hurled a mighty lob.
I didn’t half shout when a tooth fell out
As he smacked me in the gob.

Finally, came the fatal blow.
Like a weapon of mass destruction
His arm flung out, he broke my nose.
It needs a reconstruction.

Scratched legs from his uncut toenails,
I looked a sorry sight.
Black and blue while he slept on
But I hatched a plan that night.

I’ll get a bed for me alone,
I’ll sleep with the sweetest dreams.
No more to end up in A&E.
A perfect solution, it seems.

I know just what you’re thinking
But we are no longer young.
You’ve heard the saying, and I concur:
‘Two beds are better than one’.

p.s.

He’s ‘regular’ every morning,
8 a.m. ..tick tock…….
The trouble is he doesn’t wake up
’til after 9 o’clock!