That song on the radio: When I shared it with you, And you shared it with me, In those moments, The song was no longer just a song, That I hear, that you hear, It became ours, that we both listen to, that symphony, Together. Other lusty songs wander through, Finding their way to my ears, Though their words could draw us near, I am sad, they remind me of us. our slow hands, touching each other, if but virtually, fuck I still feel them, even when I am alone, missing you, touching myself, and remember, how good, we enjoy the electricity, yes now, I surrender to it, allow myself to be lost in you, our energies touch again, until the crescendo overtakes me, with the music of your breaths in my mind, and the warmth of your climax, washing over me, as I peak and find sweet release, the songs of spirit resonates again. with no demands, it satisfies, it doesn't need to be rationalized, or judged or labeled wrong or right, without asking, it answers, it just is, sound, surging and powerful, repeating its melodies again. play, secret, play, in my heart and mind and emotion, as the lyric and instruments tend to do. How can I miss, What's always there? The tune rings. endlessly. in spite of everything. it is within me, it is within you, we open up at the same time, and listen. the missing music fills the void, and closes the space between us, until once again, sweeps us, carries us, brings us closer, music does that. at times we cry or laugh, or hum, sing, whistle, nod, when music comes, when we hear or play it, it reminds us , where we were, what we did, when we first listened, steadfast or ambivalent, and acknowledged, the song.
