Monochrome song

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I wish for him to touch me

as he touches his piano.

Lift his hand after each set of notes,

and let the contact linger

behind.

Hop around the staccato

that would make me long for him to

finish the bloody song.

Press the keys like a tease

fingers dancing over monochrome

Quick and quicker yet he

He stops.

Removes his hands.

I shouldn't have wished for the end.

I wish for him to touch me

as he touches his piano.

The emotion surges through his fingertips

powerful strikes at keys

the notes cry out as the song's master used to cry.

He doesn't anymore.

Not onto parchment not onto marble not

he doesn't cry anymore.

Emotions are spoken through hands

stroking white

though they do not press

and no sound is made.

A silent song

while eyes sing praises.

I wish for him

to play me.

Play me like a song, a game.

Lead me in circles, repeating beats

deliberately

miss a note and pretend nothing happened.

At least then I would be useful,

be used,

make something beautiful.