two strong, wide-spread hands enclose my lugs.
pure ivory fingers that play the notes of my respiratory.
a melodious beat that has ceased to stop,
the song never stops and as the warm chamber, strong and relentless works.
one could believe it could have a sensory mind of it’s own.
a one track mind.
the constant repeat; you.
Every rush and muscle flexed; you, you…you
An pointer finger and middle on the cusp of my wrist finds the rhythm.
you, you, you
who can tell the difference of heart and mind.
interlocking, for me it’s connected.