The soft whisper of breath crawls across the
naked flesh. Graceful fingers trail down;
a composition that only she could hear

Crescendo after crescendo, each note as
sweet as the last, the lingering remembrance
of hereafter, no longer a thought, but the
plea for daylight hours never to come
rings true.

Devilish twists, each song reaching
a different chord. Arching, taunt,
and glistening flesh gentled under encompassing
palms.

Perfections pursuit sought within each baited
breath. Together they cling as though pressing
the precious strings of a violin. Baritone and Alto
singing in unison to the Melody of their Souls.