Coming home to him who loved

Coming home to him who loved,

a little late, a little flustered,

unshowered though they’d met again

– against her better judgement –

– his marks tarrying all over her –

Coming home to him who loved,

she knew he couldn’t but know,

the very second he’d smell her

– and then he’d see the redness –

– sense the palpitations of her heart –

Coming home to him who loved,

she remembered the man’s gaze,

his keen beard and carnal smell

– him who loved no longer enough –

– she had allowed, he had indulged –

Coming home to him who loved,

waiting on the threshold, smiling, loving,

waved as she stepped out of the car

– buried his face in her neck, and kissed –

– averted his eyes and held her hand home –

Coming home to him who loved,

she let him touch her where he’d kissed,

let his tongue search her where he’d looked

– he couldn’t ignore, he couldn’t unknow –

– she cohered he who loved and he who didn’t –