Aftershave

It gets as good as this, and not much better.
Once we shared a bed, this morning
I only see the creases in the sheets,
the after-taste of that expensive cologne
which you insisted on buying (even though
it smelled no better than our old bottle).

I can only see the shadows you leave.

Even when you were around, we had to be careful.
Careful to arrive with Cindy and Jessica,
so the neighbours would not think anything amiss.

Of course, the girls grumbled, but I guess
it mattered little to them, when all they craved
was that ticklish thrill of breaking the law.

They stopped coming last July, after Cindy got raped.
I know, her mother told me to visit her at the
hospital. But that's a story for another day.

And this story ends here, not because
it has to, nor wants to, but because the sunshine's
treading in carefully now,
and I want to be there,
when it finally evaporates your shadows.

By Choo Shu Jian

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