The silky, smooth skin
That somehow coexists
with the sturdy, white body
The rough, sandpapery fingers,
Sketched with every shade of rust.
They entwine my own and move me,
The metacarpals dance.
Lets me tune his heart strings
But they rip if I push too hard
His voice deep echoes
Blends with my sweet mellows
I feel the weight of his song upon me
I bear it on my shoulders gladly
Every slight vibration of his heart moves me,
Pulls me
Pushes me
Hugs me.
And his name
is "Bass Guitar".
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