Music*

Music,
Like love and lust, has roots in the soul.
You drive me mad with your A notes,
Making me wild like a staff with no lines.
Kisses placed randomly on paper as notes turn into high screams and low moans.

Love,
Like anger flows through my veins and burns me,
So does the fire produced by every key you hit.
Taking me higher into a world where there is no dissonance,
And every sound, from every voice, melts into one word:

Lust,
Dances to the sound produced as sweat drips tenderly off your skin.
Hands roaming gently; our hearts the bass, beat, and background.
Hit that note for me, touch me where everything makes sense and I become the star in your opera show. Make me the soprano you know I am While my:

Soul,
Is Infatuated and drowning in your:

Music.