I am a hole in a flute
that your breath moves through;
a tight Texas steer across a timpani
that your sticks beat in time.
I am the hard steel wire
vibrating to the stroke of your ivory.
I am a symphony
in search of your chord.
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This is such a fabulous poem! Literary and sexy at the same time. That first line is just hot! And somehow the fact that the prompt is What You Always Suspected gives us another whole layer of meaning. Great job with this one.
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