The shower water is ice cold,
But wouldn’t chill me even it’s a hundred fold.
It was senseless, merciless and restless,
Gushing down on me aimless.
I am still unfaithful woman after the shower.
No absolution for my impurity, when it’s over.
I am still his baby,
To the other, I’m his honey.
Warmed in one’s embrace,
In the other’s I sought solace.
Whispered the same thing twice.
To two ears unsuspecting malice.
I have no dagger in my hand,
Yet,three hearts are bleeding cold, dark blood.
Pretending it’s fine.
Is there a hyssop that cleans the soul?
That erases and forgo the foul?