There’s someone else; you’ll leave me soon.
My fragrant musk runs pale.
You smell like sex in the afternoon.

You read my skin like a brailled rune,
perfumed and dewy frail.
There’s someone else; you’ll leave me soon.

My name a softly-murmured tune
once breathed in love’s true scale.
You smell like sex in the afternoon.

Is she younger, more freshly hewn?
A girl in life’s full sail?
There’s someone else; you’ll leave me soon.

Another’s flesh now makes you swoon;
my scented dream’s gone stale.
You smell like sex in the afternoon.

A summer love born hot in June
the winter has seen to fail.
There’s someone else; you’ll leave me soon.
You smell like sex in the afternoon.