So I guess your wife will never see
How much you've been touching me.
I guess she'll happily never know
How often you lust after me so.
I guess she'll miss the look in your eyes
As you recall my nervous ecstatic surprise.
I guess she'll live in a kind of bliss
Never really knowing what she missed.
I guess she'll never really be
Aware of how alive you were with me.
I guess she'll never appreciate
The feeling of you which makes me elate.
I guess she'll miss the sighs you heave
At the end of each night when I have to leave.
I guess she'll not know the temptation
You give into to stain your reputation.
I guess she'll always keep living on
Unaware of all the girls you've been upon.
Or maybe she's got sense and won't wait
And will escape before it's all too late.
A/N: The first stanza is based on a line from the song "Something to Do with My Hands" by Her Space Holiday; 'So your boyfriend has no clue /of how much I've been touching you'. I then just based the poem around that.
I actually wrote this poem as a poem in itself, then realised how relevant it was to this book, and so adapted it. The first version was a bit... less roman, to put it politely. I don't normally write or like poems with such a rigid rhyme scheme, but this one just came to me.
Disclaimer: To my utter disappointment, I don't own the Roman Mysteries.