my lover equates me with my favorite instrument; running his fingers down the strings of my flesh, building tension and release as he sees fit. the movement of our lips almost quantized to match each other’s harmony. every taste he acquires from me is another texture added to his collection of sounds. I want to let him know that he can learn me to my very core and play me to his heart’s content like a cherub playing the harp as he ascends the heavens.
I almost lost it reading this after church (for reference, I’m seeing a music producer)