Platonic Guitar

That’s me to
her eyes
for she thought
well, I shall make
two or three chords
out of her.

And she did.

God… how dared she
play me with those
buttery-smooth fingers,
tipping every inch of
me, experimenting
sounds coming out
of my moaning-string mouth,
how, how dared she?

Press me and compress
me and then caress me
and ask me, hey,
how do you like being
bent and pulled?

Mmmm… I do not know,
I am reechoing your moves,
I am trembling
safety, I am
letting you play

Play my every note
and possible combination
for as long as the
poem I swore not,
not to write you
is over, just slide
over me,
oh wait…

I absolutely love
bent and pulled!



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