Dexterous, dirty hands of color and class: lead me in dangerous directions.
Thin eyes: widen by me and the inhalation of side-street dreams.
Thick body: release the masochist of memories that once chiseled your frame and allow me to pulsate new perspectives.
Pieces of you enter through pieces of me and slip on a new dream.
His presence is powerful and intimidating. The symphony of his synergy: alive and absorbing. He strings me through the air, conducting my every sound. Conducting my every move. I breathe in a cold air full of nerves and exhale the warmth of his infection, but I speak no words. What can I say that will steal his attention? The maestro of my heart’s affection.