Shyne
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11:32:57 pm on March 25, 2008 | # |
She wakes me, then she vanishes.
But the scent of a thousand other flowers
seems to harmonize to annoy me
as it lingers in the four walls of this room.
She wakes me up, again,
as the fragrance of those noble women.
It’s the scent that wakes the conscience.
Before, I am the sun that suppressed her from
Continually giving her charm.
She’s asleep; I wake up and left her.
She attends me well and should have stayed with her.
My smell betrays me,
perhaps the sheet she washes that covers my bed,
makes me remember the nights
when she showered me with perfume of love
despite her awareness of my infidelity, but it’s not the sheets.
My wife now keeps me sleepless.
My wife, or
You, who granted her this charm, forgive me!
Deprive me my sense of smell,
or even just the scent of that flower
in the midst of this room
that haunts my conscience every night.
