Playing

Dry callused hands grazed her smoothness
Molding to the curves of her sides
Gently, tenderly he pulled he into the fold of his lap
Sliding his hands

up
And
down her neck

Cooing sweet melodies
Moving over her slow
then faster, harder
no longer thoughfully
selfishly pushing to see what she could do
for him

strum strum strumstrumming
until in one final climax
he broke the string.

Why couldn't I have seen by the way he played?
God, how he played my guitar.