An aftertaste of treason

You cannot hide the truth.
Even in our most passionate
fires that burn my loins.
I know it is not me you want.
Your soft breast and wet red lips 
tell the truth 
that your voice cannot speak.
kissing me with hunger.
But I can detect the
Aftertaste of treason.
Even as I lie spent
Next to you in your bed.
Your ghost is already
Haunting me.