We're like two different cycles
of different worlds, not alike--
It keeps going round and round
in the pace of speed and sound.

When our digits entangle slowly,
Torturous with precise intent,
My heart beats out of control,
careful, dear, it just might fall.

And I shudder with your words,
They crawl unto my skin in shivers,
Crystal droplets fall upon my cheeks
and end up below me in rivers.

Slow movements of your fingers,
As they play their sensual notes,
Upon my musical surface it rose
a series of blissful dreams linger.

Labels: poetry