The Piano
He played me the rawness of life
A pain he made calm in his hand
With fingers staccato across the keys
That no other touch could warm.
I was as a goddess of sound
A beckoning ivory lust
The world became mute with my lilting voice
Would fall with my ebony glance.
He trod with his fingers and toes
A snaring sonata of love
And such was the fever of loss, I knew
The loneliest shores in his sleep.
I stand with the patience of death
For morning to live in his eyes
And muting my breath, to rise on one side
To feel his touch burn me again.
celenagaia 