The Trills That Fit

The only time I feel like I can be anyone, that I can be anywhere is when I'm with you.
You find way of sneaking in the cracks,
creeping through my cynicism,
you make me laugh even when I'm mad.

You remind me of what it feels to be sensual,
just with the way you talk
my body rocks
so attuned to your tune
I may as well devour you

You speak of violent love
of loving violence
either way
it makes me want to let my hair out.

You whisper me to sleep
or blare your horns in the morn
either way you end up being the first and the last
and somedays I'm reminded that, that in itself is a comfort.

You remind me it's okay to dream big
to wonder about things like my place among the stars
because down here, the cold florescent lamps make it difficult to believe in warmth of light.

That's what you are for me
a warmth, a hearth for my heart.
Tickling the bad mood out of my body
speaking to me through poetry so I remember beauty, even if it's just for awhile.

You know all my spots
You know the path down my hips
Down my belly
Down.
It's okay,
I want you there.
Because it's still part of your art of pleasure.
Still part of your skill.

You have my photobook memorized
you know all my memories (the embarrassing and the golden)
you know the triggers to hit, the trills that fit
and each one I am thankful, and each one I hate you for.
Playing on the exquisite torture of re-feeling, even if its too big for my heart.

I hope wherever I go, you'll still be there. One step with me. One step afar. Calling out echoes in the dark, leading me to the light.

Music.
My muse.
Where would I be without you?