He smells more than a little different today.
Too sweet for even my mouth to taste.
It was unlike his sweaty essence would convey.
With a bit of its winter’s feel now displaced.
He’s smelled different for a while,
Now he’s starting to look different.
A part of him feels more like my neighbour, from a mile.
Same gait and serenity sequentially unfolds, like a current.
The time we spend with another rubs off.
With time, we pick up traits unwittingly.
A change in how we’d pick up a glass, laugh, react or even cough.
The heart never lies for too long, she told him agonizingly.
“I’ve been with him, but its only been for a while” he lied.
“It just happened, I swear the devil took part in this” he furthered.
“I wouldn’t do that to you, you own me” he supplied.
“How do you own someone who yearns for another” she countered.
Now I know why anger is called, the bloodshot eyes.
Why the woman would rather leave than remain.
Why after this, her eyes lost all the purity it once comprised.
And why from love she now chooses to abstain.