I want you to sit and rest your fingers atop mine
and together we will make a melody.

I want you to press my keys and let the hammers
hammer my heartstrings, letting waves reverberate and
shiver down my spine.

I want your weight to press down my pedals and
make our symphony rush into a crescendo.

Our music will be that of great stars and winds and warm nights,
and your hands will run back and forth my black and white stripes -
striking chords, stacking notes as if they were black heads kissing.

Our symphony will be written on paper-white sheets that
blanket over your body and mine.

On white sheets we will leave black trails that
will soon be played by another, and
our music will linger.

Silence thickened the air as I saw you press the keys of another.