Message (Poetry)

I’ve failed to kick the habit — instinct sticks
its stubborn streak denies futility
stays constant to an image so I wear
my hair the way you liked it — dress to please
and choose your favourite perfume faithfully

as if that scent could lure you from afar
and tempt you (against reason) to home in
like some great moth enraptured
combing air for messages
relayed in fragrant code.

I wait beside this open window — watch the moon
and search the empty promise of its face
for signs that it remembers how we were
on other nights before the magic fled.

Enthralled — a voiceless ritual fills my head
your name an incantation haunts the dark
and answering the potent spell released
floods urgently to rouse and stimulate.

I conjure you alone beneath this moon
breathing in the musk-enchanted air
remembering the smell of my perfume
and trembling — grown restless to return.