I spent nights in his arms as he wrote stories on every crevice of my body. With his pen. And his tongue. Each one a masterpiece. With hands that made me shiver, he’d play me. He’d finger my heartstrings and strum me. Till I forgot where I ended and he begun.

But one day I told him, ‘Free me, if you care. Look into my eyes and see me, if you dare. Erase then rewind me. Untame me. Restore me.’ You see he’d consumed me, I told him, ‘Unhook me. Cut me lose.’ And he did.

Now, all I want is to be played again.

Originaly published on nekeliz.wordpress.com