| Putting My Bass Into Her Song (by SirBoggy) |
SirBoggy
|
Her lips pursed up | 1 |
as if ready to kiss the rhythm | 2 |
that is causing her head to sway | 3 |
as if she had no control. | 4 |
She, with her play hard to get eyes, | 5 |
looks at you | 6 |
wanting to meld in the immediacy of the Infinite | 7 |
– perfection – | 8 |
wants you to touch her from afar | 9 |
because all affairs of love and lust, | 10 |
she claims, by the distance she creates, | 11 |
will be on her terms | 12 |
her terms alone. | 13 |
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Her shoulders, relaxed and fair, | 14 |
move like the ocean | 15 |
as does her hair | 16 |
and like the ocean | 17 |
it calms you, it lulls you, as well as, beckons you | 18 |
to see how cold it really is | 19 |
and tauntingly asks, “Can you handle it?” | 20 |
Her thick, long, black curls, my favorite kind of course, | 21 |
against her | 22 |
smooth, soft, | 23 |
strong, defined, low lighting silhouette beg me to play my bass | 24 |
a way it was never intended to be played before. | 25 |
| |
With each cool note that she plays | 26 |
in her oh so, quick, to the point, only-an-artist-could-truly-know- | 27 |
jazzy way which runs up your spine | 28 |
and stopping your heart on the way | 29 |
as she strums affectionately | 30 |
the song that echoes in her soul | 31 |
seemingly from her to you | 32 |
and from the rhythm her curves suddenly appear. | 33 |
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No! The rhythm is her curves, | 34 |
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which like the ocean | 35 |
although placid on the soul | 36 |
still plays the devil’s advocate | 37 |
as it demands to know, “Can you handle it?” | 38 |
“Can you handle me? | 39 |
Will you walk the walk | 40 |
and talk the talk | 41 |
that I give no hint or clue | 42 |
that you must a prior know and be?” | 43 |
| |
I have no time for this | 44 |
although I’m enthralled. | 45 |
I will not be mislead for “it” | 46 |
although the grace of her chords | 47 |
like a siren call | 48 |
which I refuse to let wear me down | 49 |
cause once I’m worn | 50 |
her curves will all at once | 51 |
just be round. | 52 |
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So, I’ll meet you half-way | 53 |
what the hell I’m intrigued. | 54 |
I’ll put my bass into your song; | 55 |
You want to dangle in my face | 56 |
the fundamental essence of what can | 57 |
drive sane men to war? | 58 |
– the very thing I’ll probably never | 59 |
feel, taste, hold, love, cherish, defend, preserve, | 60 |
and give my devotion for | 61 |
the very thing I would never want to own | 62 |
because you possess it | 63 |
you flaunt it | 64 |
it is completely, undoubtedly (and | 65 |
without reservation or as much admiration | 66 |
as you think you get from it | 67 |
and power it allows you to wield) | 68 |
and solely, subjectively yours. | 69 |
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Perhaps “subjective” is too strong a word. | 70 |
As the subjectivity of what I thought was “it” – your sexuality – | 71 |
which kept me coming back for more | 72 |
one more glance | 73 |
one more peak | 74 |
one more chance to engrave all you features | 75 |
especially your curves (with respect to the parts not being greater than the whole) | 76 |
yet make your sweater or your robe | 77 |
twist, turn, and tangle | 78 |
like my tongue | 79 |
or plastic on a stove | 80 |
writhing around wishing its escape all while knowing, | 81 |
“Damn, she hooked me in,” | 82 |
with her curves | 83 |
on her terms | 84 |
her terms alone. | 85 |
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and in the end it was really the fact that she owned “it” | 86 |
that truly tempted my soul. However, one cannot be tempted | 87 |
by a thing one does not love, | 88 |
so, play hard to get with some other moron, who’ll make my same mistake | 89 |
and keep your fuckin’ curves; | 90 |
from now on I will do only as you suggested | 91 |
I’ll find and meet you in your rhythms, | 92 |
when I simply put my bass into your song. | 93 |
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