Is that you, when I hear…
A car driven into the porch?
Oh it has to be! Finally
You reach our home,
To me.

What will it be tonight, my love?
The night was tryingly long,
Coaxing in you a desire that was inflamed
Due to my lack of presence in the party.
But my dear, I was never told
About it.

It must have been mortal forgetfulness.
That happens, you assure me.
It seems to happen a bit too often.
But is it me whom you are assuring
Or…?

What is the story this time?
The lingering scent of the jasmines,
The capricious nature of thy youth,
The intoxicating wine…
But how did it stray you into
The equally potent, the other ‘w’
Woman?

Tears unleashed
Like a storm from your eyes,
Of repentance, confessing yet
Condemning the mood of the night
To be liable for your clandestine tryst.
You have done your part well, but
What is mine?

Do I have any?
I question silently…
How many times you have done this to me,
Yet I remain shamelessly helpless,
All the time, all the while.

My inner soul immersed in grave doubts
As to whether I should relent this time too?
But am I truly forgiving or is it
All an act?

As I brush aside the red stain
From your shirt, from your heart,
As the stench of her perfume
Overwhelms me, suffocates me…
Can I ever…?