I Want To Play.

My fingers,

Light across the strings,

The music,

Plays in my ear,

My heart is wide open,

To the sounds of those near.

They listen,

To the music I play,

In conjunction,

With the song,

That we are playing.

I am engrossed,

In the song,

Of passion,

And love.

I am soaring in,

An endless love,

It’s heated with,

The taste of passion,

Trust,

Absurdness.

I can’t follow the rhythm,

That the music is taken,

It’s fast,

Competitive,

Un-denied,

Soaring.

And then it flies,

Like a kiss,

That’s warmer than the sun,

Than the feel of strong arms,

Than safety itself.

And then it stops.

We stop.

We breathe.

We watch.

The audience is waiting.

Their breath is held,

Anxious,

Impassioned.

Then we start again,

Gently at first,

Coaxingly,

Lovingly,

We bring our lovers together,

Playing time,

Playing differently,

Playing all in all.

It rises with love,

And soars with happiness,

Taking on life itself,

And then it drops,

Slowly,

Contentedly,

Until we are at the end.

And we play,

The final,

Single,

Lonely tune.

Just one half left,

Alone, but contented,

It waits at the side,

Counting the nights,

And the days,

Until the petal drops,

Landing on a grave.

And I play,

The final note,

Just as I wanted it,

Leaving it to hang,

In the air,

Long and lastingly.

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