She comes home late,
the fragrance on her clothes seems different,
like a warm heat that had been rubbed
to a surface I dared not to believe
  and when she kissed me on the cheek
I prayed her lips was wet for
drinking the beverage I had offered her.

Regret has swallowed me whole,
   begged the mirror to break the silence,
what more do I lack?
Was the promise for eternity not enough
  or I wasn't as great as the lover I used to be in the past?

Each doubt made me weak, knowing on another's arms she was given plenty
and everytime she comes home late
  I hope she'll see
through my eyes a man
broken over a truth
I neglected to see