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Image for the poem Making Soft Music

Making Soft Music

His heat rested firm against my cheek.
I wondered if he felt my breath.

My hand drifted across his scrotum to
smooth skin below where my piano fingers
played part of a childhood song.

I softly sang, “falling down, falling down,”
as the tips of my fingers tapped lightly.
I wondered if he knew the melody.
Written by Nizana (Lauryn)
Published
Author's Note
More lines inspired by time with my new love.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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