Strung Up Lover

I pull you out
From your dark house
And hold your curved body
In an intimate embrace.
Together, we’ll make music.
I run my thumb across your
Tightly wound mouths.
You whimper in discordant response.
Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.
I glide my hand up your neck
And twist all your knobs until you
Sing out a joyous resonation.
I could hold you for hours,
Stroking and pressing.
Simultaneously,
Stroking and pressing.
Our voices combine and
It—is—Bliss.
I know you wish to be held longer,
But I am fatigued.
So for now,
Rest in your ebony bed, sweet Joy.
Until tomorrow,
When I will again hold you close.