Pull the strings
the guitar speaks
in riffs of wincing pain
and in curved glances
poisons your mind
with aftertaste of want
slither fingers over the whites
on my piano
and glide the satin touch of your lips
with a devouring passion
over mine, mouth organ
in sparkling orgasms of black
and tiny leaps of slender
curves of the drum stick
on the cymbals
and make me rhythmically
gasp in
the wires that bind the frets
of doubt in my head
and the virgin skips
a ten fold sheen of a uni colored rainbow
to the movement of a humming bird
making love to its better half
defying gravity of lust
as he makes love
to his vocals cords
and serenades her
in baby talk
as she rains doubts of separation
and they grow into the destiny of
Claustrophobic symphony
in the note perfect song
she planted misery
as Pandora blew up
a volcano that destroyed
And then again
the composition
demands him to hurt his fingers
and blood trickles
the brow of his finger
on the finesse of the string
that adorns the feminity
of his instrument of vent
And still he gave all
as loyal as Romeo was
he, to his guitar
But he bled
and winced
in painful delight
as the maiden withdrew
her hand of fate
And so he sang
and sang tonight
till howls of his pain
echoed beneath the distant moon
and the dogs of the night
accompanied his crisp melody
as they made music of their kind
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