Nocturnes of Surrender

You speak, and my spine remembers that I was built to bow. Your breath: a nocturne in C sharp minor— unasked, entering… disarming, following. You lean in like Chopin leaned on silence— possessively, melancholic need before sound—searing hushes that demand submission in return. And I am raindrops to your sustaining notes…. storming into the song’s development— I become the keys, and you the fingers… —you press out sounds of me— architectures, arts, poesy, nocturnes of surrender rising in my throat… into yours.