Flesh

I am the kind of woman who will come back to haunt your dreams, move through your humid nights the way honey swirls, elusive, I live in that moist cave just beyond your consciousness.

Accept it.

You will always lust for me. Years later, when bodies have grown soft with age, when wrinkles speak of happiness and sorrow. You will always wonder what it would have been like to grow old with me.

You will remember with clarity, or perhaps without, that morning my tears filled my coffee cup on a table in a cafe somewhere in someplace which will not matter much by then, but you will remember.

You will remember nights of passion and torment, the smell of my skin and the faint sound of my laughter. And after all, you will wonder if all the women were of compensation for real Love.

And you will remember how you drowned me in stifling sweetness. That I was surrounded with "You" until I was blind. And you will remember the betrayal.

Accept that you lost me. That you lost me. That I know now. I know about her. Sleeping in my bed on nights when you went to her. She who awaits you with open arms, she who does not say No.

No.