today i played Ambre
in a concert of 20 people
with my eyes closed all
but at the 25th bar.

Out of every sobre
heart i saw for that 3 seconds
i saw your own eyes closed
enwrapped in the music.

you weren't thinking about the calibre
of people in this small room,
or the cost of the ticket.
Not about the cold room

or warm bodies or the fibre
that stuck so close to your skin
that they were seduced with its pleasure
or the fingers that pressed the keys

Your mind covered by sabre
in the message.we both knew
what Nils Frahm wrote in that piece.
We know. But we can't say