The Unfaithful Wife

Adultery is inclined at an angle of a love she calls hers
Tomorrow or next every time she was around
At the edges of erotically intense pleasure she stays
Deceit is the shape of her heart
The candle of her home is harlotry
The taste of her wifehood is unfaithfulness
That of her love smells corruption
She is a husband’s fix, not a husband’s fit

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