I hear the discordant clash the of gilded piano keys
Like the doling of a great clock,
my life is spread between the fells of hammers
and chiming of ivories
The swells of the violin push through me,
hooking around my neck
and bending it like a stalk of wheat
He leans over me and warbles out an aria
his melody breaks over me
and forces the wind from my chest
He pulls me close, crowning my head with his chapped lips
We dance until my feet bleed over the waxen marble holding us
Together, our bare skin brushes along air
thick with the humidity of my feverish breath
Trebel strings slither down arteries and up veins
They lace through my skin
and strain toward him
But it is he that needs to want me,
if we could ever be together
My Quietus
