He played me in melodic song
knowing how I longed to hear
and feel his kissed breath;
whispering in my ear.

Like drizzled tendrils of rain,
washing against my trebling
frame, it was insane as he
refrained from causing this
heart of mine any pain.

Playing me, striking each chord
as a strummed tune; soothing
any sorrows, lost in broken
tomorrows; still whispering his
yearning want of me in measured
scores.

Caressing my soul as if, a
maestro leading his orchestra,
crescendoeing like trembling
limbs teased in hunger.

Splayed, awaiting his baton of
passion like a bee hovering to
taste its honey, giving pleasured
sonnets entwined within sweet
poetry.

Still playing me as his sweetest
melody.