ludovico

It feels like water, sliding over my skin, each note a drip down and pooling at my feet. To be touched without words, to let fingers of sound connect with my tissue, each vibration humming through my ears and to unravel the gossimer threads of emotion. There is no where else but the length of this bed and the darkness of my eyelids, melting into fabric and the floor boards rising like crests of sea. Somehow you come through, just a suggestion in the carress of this particular melody, and I can feel you in the air around me. Speeding up with my breath, in synch with the beats of heart and the jump of my temple. In the bends of bone and the bridge of tendon, I sense the beauty of a moment enlarged. The pores of a second swept into my vision and I can feel each minuscule part letting go. The small sighs of weight evaporate as the music moves inside. Winding trails, I cannot see the beginning or the end, only the tips of tingles running down my legs, the fragments of thought pushing through. Each sweet story leaving a mark, our own begins to take shape, transforming and looping in it’s own time.