He asked about my favourite scent.
Now I’m singing, being
for him a rest.
Silence. All the motions inside.
Seduced, suspended. There is
no way out. My own dark powers arrest.
Slowly growing killing cells
each word. Every gesture.
Never never never ends,
not even after my death.
Singing another – me – at best?
Better than a lover left.
Each word is some taking the hook.
I misunderstand to be