What

That night, all down the curve
of your spine, I tasted
her perfume. And all of
who I was stood accused.
The night made you no more
than a stranger. Confused
in the streetlights` dead stare,
I watched the small, hard
madness of shadows flare.
And fade. Then die. I`ve tried,
I whispered to the night.
No answer. The bastard,
I wept to the God of Right.
There was only silence,
what you were
and the night.