Acidic tones soared across broken words;
dark stutters of lime shaped apologies,
your voice was a nightmare disguised with silk
as it tore up wild excuses then squeezed
with sultry tones of the warrior's song.
There were no citrus tears to save me now,
no gentle smile to soothe the wrath given,
as you twisted the pith of my language
I devoured scents of imperfection,
the death of true love had been by my hand.
Guilt's manufactured paper thin reason
burst into flames while heartache erupted,
perhaps, if I could reverse time's dank flow,
I would not travel through her wanton caves,
it was too late for I'd succumbed to lust.
And as the shivers of the present run
down the past's cold features, I accept all
the anger with my head bent low in shame,
adultery's steel visions captured me,
there are no promises to make it right.