My Mistress

In my mind there is a mistress.
I lie with her in day old bed sheets.
Her skin smells of Jasmine.

We were alone at the Alhambra.
Her hair blew in the breeze,
Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight;

I am reminded of how much I wanted to be with her.
We were intoxicated with love.
Our soul intertwined.

But now that I am back in the United States,
I feel shame for my feelings for her.
How we would have been good together.

At times, I have these burning questions.
Questions that only she can answer;
She is the one that can pull out the dagger out of my back.
How her mother's knitted brow haunts me.
I always wanted to know why she didn't like me.

Perhaps she was frightened by the fact that I would have taken her daughter away.
I have kept this mistress in my heart.
I have lusty thoughts.
I never wanted to hear her say goodbye.
It was too painful.

At the time, a bonfire seemed like a good idea.
I placed her picture in the flames and watched her burn.
Her smile, however; remains stamped on my brain.
She is the one of the thorns in my side.