PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I played you like an instrument
ran fingers over your strings
and smiled as you came across my palm
in pitches that suited my ears just fine.
You were always raw to me
like honey or unrefined sugar
and I nibbled at your edges
to teach myself restrictions.

I think on you as I swirl my wine
and remember the finer things in life:
the line of your jaw,
the green in your eyes,

how I played you like a violin;
all long strokes and the delicate plucking of symbolic cords
that ran down your nervous system to the supple curve of your hip
and I met it there with my own vibrations.

My,
what beautiful music we made.