The core of a fling

The core of a fling

I flung my ears to overhear

The grievance in her voice

I threw my eyes to catch insight

Innermostly in her tortured soul

To unearth the skeleton of that sphinx

Who ungroundly was born

“The scarlet letter” by Nathaniel Hawthorn

To the ominous fellow

It’s illicit to be closed !

Into pieces should be torn

Feels like

In her threat a sharp thorn

Prevents the air to enter

What if she goes to a priest ‼

Conveys the secret

Appeals the letters of indulgence

For forgiveness of a sin

Was not hers‼

Dreamt of being member

Of happy beehive

Unnoticed come, soon gone

As sweaty fragrance

Of carnation smelt at glance

Live alone, die alone

Oh! What he has done

_{To depart in such gone‼!}