What am i even here for? am i
A warning, since i cannot be an example? such a
Waste of a pretty, blonde girl. my mother dreamed
Of one big, happy family. too bad i’m not
A part of it. i guess when
Life knocks you down, stay down.

Fill me with music.
Let me brim with your melodies, and cry out lyrics.
Taste the guitar’s strings on my tongue, feel them strum your body into ******.
Fingers pressing against my keys, lifting vibrations from the very base of my core, and coaxing them from my mouth.

My torso acts as violin, and your lips a bow. They leave me humming for you, deep and legato.
Your tongue flicks against reeds of sensation. Punctuates key changes and where your instrument shall come in.
I, the band, is directed by you, the maestro, until you are ready to finish our song.

I feel the heat of your symphony radiating into me.
I sing soprano only for you.
Together, we are an orchestra.

My dearest Ana, so small, so frail,
Your security reminds me I am strong.
The wind around your frame, a song.

My dearest Ana, so cold, so pale,
Your cheeks, sad caverns, are hollowed.
Your words of prayer and wisdom, followed.

My dearest Ana, so thin, so weak,
I long to feel your light caress.
I do not fear your constant presence, I obsess.

My dearest Ana, so somber, so bleak,
Too much weight I struggle to bear.
I cannot cry: my tears are all but air.

My dearest Ana, so bright, so pleased,
You beat the odds, and proved them wrong.
You kept us in the dark for this long.

My dearest Ana, so dead, so diseased,
You’re rid of sin. Your soul is chaste,
All because you gave up your gift of taste.