A Wife For The Nightfall Poem by jathin aka jesuzz

I saw her in that red light street corner
Dim red lights highlighted the room, most part of her life too.
Smell of stained notes plagued her hands.
They clothed her each night in robes,
weaved from hot breath. embossed her white body with hungry marks
some of dissatisfaction. in their lover
Some Of non fulfillment.from their wives
Some of hatred, for the female who ignored his love
Few of pleasure.of a female body
Her wince was the value of their payment.

In her market she was the sale
She was the seller too
The price her lonely nights,
Was a subsequent hungry day.
In her hair, flowers no longer were innocent
They busily orchestrate the kill, of your virtue
On her body clothes were shy,
They shrink away in shame.
Her eyes no longer talk,
For they only fixate on the impending client.
Oh’ women what are you.
An embodiment of all worldly temptations.


Missed her on her street corner for months I did.
Each night I glanced on the vacant corner of my sinful wishes
Then amidst my role of a satisfied family man
In one of my wife’s shopping spree, I saw her
It was still only twilight, I thought?
Like in a hypnotic trance my feet followed her
Through the granite payments.i moved
Between the wicked walls. My eyes seek her.
Knocked a door, left a basket on the steps
A house of god it was. for all his little lambs
With the grace of a mysterious druid she glided away.
Leaving the last piece of purity behind, she walked

Without a second look, on the soft white bundle
Of meat and bones, that hardly lost her odor
To be a wife, a wife for the nightfall.


Blame her, I dare not, for I am not
the quintessence of virtues.
Bruised and battered was her body
Biased and clouded her judgments
Stained and sinned her soul,
A thousand hands fingered her
as the epitome of sin
the church warned of her.
In beauty walks the beast they say.
Though in silence all conspired.
In her warm embrace, they all perspired.
In her inviting gaze they even forgot the sin.
Am I alone when I think, is she alone the sinner.
Or are we? .
Often when I think so, I am scared,
for its us who feed her sin!
Often when I think so, I am scared,
For if she is the sinner,
Then I must be the devil,
For its I who feed her sins.