the title goes down here

A melody fades in

with a tender slide of the fingertips.

As they move from here to there 

parallel to the notes of her moans.

A deep note emerges with the seal

of every warm peck on her cold skin.

From her throaty C to her shrieking A sharp

while her eyes wide shut.

She lies herself like an heirloom instrument,

to mark mystical lyrics for a second, too long.

The symphony escalates when both hands

play her, bass and treble clef alike.

As and when those lips are tongued,

a basic instinct wanders behind the jaw line

to inform how to play her brilliantly.

Fingers crossed in sync then pace up the rhythm

and harmonise with her secret slit delta.

The intense graceful treatment

brings her come to a climax.

The melody starts to dissolve with

three fingertips pressed hard where she arches

the gentle slope kissed, where she dips

and for it she inhales sharp.

Besides her, the ghosts beneath her ribs

come on their feet

to give a standing ovation.