Wednesday, 17 September 2014

The (other) woman.

In the heat of the moment,
I scratch your back with my nails,
So that when you lie down with her,
She is going to know,
Know that I was here.




But that deep welt on your neck,
Did she put it there?
Was she also marking her territory,
So I would also know,
Know that she was there?

I let my perfume mix with your cologne,
Let you run your hands into my perfumed hair,
So that if or when you go to her next,
She is going to smell me on you,
And know that,
Know that I was here.

But that sweet smell on your body,
Is it a mixture of her scent and yours?
Were you in her arms then?
And did she rub her perfume onto you
So that I would smell her on you,
And know that,
Know that she was there?

When she kisses you,
Does she taste me on your lips,
On your palate and tongue.

And when I kiss you,
Is it her I taste on your lips,
On your palate and your tongue?