You sit alone
Within the shadows of a stage.
Hear me, your muse, sing our song,
That I’ll sing ’til the end of our days.
Pluck the strings of your guitar.
Imagine the instrument’s my form.
Strum each cord to the pounding of my heart.
Invoke words of ecstasy…wanting more.
I watch you slide your hands down.
Feel the curvatures of my passions.
Bend my instrument.
Do the will of your imagination.
Up and down to the beat of our own tempo.
Breathe to the iamb of one another’s appetite.
Rapacity conjures up hidden desires.
Carnal instincts thrive along my spine.
Thrust harmony deep into your mind,
As steam rises off the chorus.
Propel into tempestuous rage.
The bosom of my craft, voluptuous.
Finding your rhythm alongside me.
Tune my delicate alabaster skin.
Fiercely tug on my ebony hair.
Titillate these forbidden notes within.
Melodious tears flow.
This writhing instrument’s subdued.
Fervent to arrest this moment.
…and so begins the first interlude.
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