Sweet and subdued
sultry notes pour
from your fingers,
spilling onto the ivories,
each dripping with passion.
How I long for the weight
of those fingertips
to drip that same rhythm and melody
across my arms, over the shoulders,
down to caress the small of my back.
Feather soft body hair strains,
and skin runs both cool and infernal
as your phantom fingers
play me like an instrument
just as intimately
as you play

jazz

on the piano.