You Are Supposed to Be His Wife

We had promised, hand in hand,
To find solitude even in the city’s crowd.
I would write the tales of dreams in your eyes,
Stories only we could read,
As if this was our perfect world.

We had promised to walk together
On the golden streets of autumn’s bloom.
When you smiled, the sky would smile too,
When you wept, even the moon would sink at midnight.

We had promised at least love,
Or a kiss on nights of sorrow.
We had promised to share a plate of food,
And let our love grow, eternal and true.
And all would say, seeing this,
You are no deceiver.

Yet look now, the head that rests upon your chest
You are supposed to be his wife.
And the touch that welcomes a new guest.

Poem: You Are Supposed to Be His Wife
- Khubayb Hossain