You strum on me
Plucking the strings
Like you pinched that guitar, that day
But you play Dylan, Death Cab
Seven Nation Army.
Amateur.

You have touched everything
And I will not say that I miss you
When you haven’t left me.
Your DNA is all over me, suffocation;
And I flush against you, willing our hearts to beat in time
Desperate for desperation
For the savage wanting thoughts that possess me to come to life
But you are no magician.
And they are not yet unlocked.