Just as art is music for the eyes,
food is music for the tongue,
body and soul!

Recoiling in a lover's arms,
I stare out through steamy glass
and find my peace among the stars.
Cold, but still I melt his heart.

I hear music through the walls,
never once said I'd break your fall.
I'm sorry. Though, I'd never ask
that you should hit the ground so hard.

Nor that you should fall at all.
Control yourself- you know the rules.
You don't know me; I don't know you.
Please act your age, don't act the fool.

And still with hopeless puppy eyes
they laugh to me with loving smiles.
This is a game and I'm your prize-
stop thinking I'll be yours in white.

I'm not here to connect with you,
I'm only here to get with you.
Please, this is not a union.
I'm using you; please, use me too.

Away with knocking on my heart.
I'll lick your fingers clean to start
then nibble on your ear for main.
Friend, love and lust are not the same.

Though we are both but hearts alone,
it's not your heart that makes me moan.
Reciting rules to men full grown:
if you should fall, you'll fall alone.

Your fingers swept
Delicately grasping
The Heartstrings
I never knew existed
The Heartstrings
I thought were split

After so much trauma
After so much agony

As of current
The string are now
Between your fingertips
You tugged
You played
Mildly, wildly
Orchestrating
As you pleased
with much caution
Allowing them
To stay intact
And not snap

Regardless of
How suddenly you found
my Heartstrings lost
I trusted you to play
The same way
You trusted me to stay

Music is my soulfood
Music is my daily wine
Though aged, it never loses
its succulent taste.

and the puzzles don't fit like pieces
like the ones you'd wish on a chess board

And life is just a gamble we never wanted to play
so music is the last resort to staying

In a kaleidoscope of broken pieces
I hope we'll make masterpieces

of all these broken parts

I wanna have sax with you again.

You trumpet my mind away.

I miss how the tips of my fingers press every single one of your keys causing you to vibrate

Then I’d strum a handful of your strings, getting amped up for you to scream

Do you remember the way that your ***** felt due to the stroking of my trombone?

This is when your harps start to beat excessively

And mines was on the same bass

You would always turn around so I can use my drumstick

You’d think I put my foot it in.

I recall how you catch rhythm quite splendid each side clapping tambourines.

I inquired, you’d choir

****, our orchestrated erotica

Now do you understand why your name is logged into my phone as Harmonica?