Why take so much care undressing me?
Garments would slip off my shoulders
As easily as your name would off my lips.
You wanted this movement adagio.
When I am as smooth hipped as a cello,
you can't help but have your hands touch me more than mine and
the hollows my body will resonate with chords I can't name and
Is a string,
You could never mistake these moans for melancholy
Just as I could never be a cello.
You rather me played horizontal.