Her Eyes Blinded My Senses

Hello, my friend,

Here is another poem, which may read as a confession of mine, but that's up to you how you interpret it.

In any case, I hope you like it and share your comments. If you happen to have had an experience like the one described in the poem, you may not want to share it loudly, but I promise it will be a secret between you and me.

Her Eyes Blinded My Senses

A poem by Sal Godoij

Her eyes blinded my senses

And I dismissed the fact she wasn't mine

It all happened so suddenly

Should I justify myself?

It was love at first sight.

Oh, such an imperfect love

And so, she and I became actors in a farce.

The stage? A poorly furnished hotel room

A bleached fabric covered a small window

The moon glittered through it

Like a Christmas trimming stamped in the shabby fabric.

In a corner, a chair and a round, unstable table

And on the round unstable table, a half-empty bottle of red wine.

Between caresses, we took turns to sip from the bottle

In this way, she and I dried the pleasure from the hours

And the bed, of course, the bed

As raucous as a flock of ducks

And Eve on the bed

Seductive, decisive, invasive, Eve

Urging the horses of adultery to move faster

Eve, like the first woman, Eve

Another reprehensible story attached to a fruit

The forbidden fruit of sin

Fearful of the Law, I repented in her arms

But the wine voided my repentance

Instead, it awoke my courage.

Courage, my friend, you don't plan courage

Invisible, it surges and slaps you in the face

And so I felt courageous to ask her for directions

She told me where; she told me when

Her urgency ripped off my shirt

Her quick breathing ripped off my fears

Like ten knives, her fingernails pierced my back

And I lived the life that I forever wished to live, but briefly

Briefly, I say, because love is brief

Love is brief and intense, my friend

And that's what makes it so good

So inviting to sin.

The sun opened its wings of fire and took flight

Awed, the night took shelter in the bottom of the bottle

And the moon?

The moon, my friend, became a pale, round, yellowish stain

Spilled over the shabby fabric that covered the window.