Fingertips brushing on the black and white keys
just as his brush on her cheeks,
the two men create music;
both romantic, but one unforgettable.
She feels the fingertips trace her breakable skin
as her headphones communicate
the sound of the keys dearly dancing,
from note to note, emotion to emotion,
in a motion as gradual as can be.

With the catchy tune settling off of her tongue
just as her face settles off in his mind,
she, alone, dances in the walls of privacy;
he, alone, admires his inamorata dancing
in the area of the walls of privacy in his mind.

Breath punched out of the brass openings
just as her breath punched past her lips,
the two women embark on an adventure,
both unknown and sweet.
Hiding her secrets in the silk she wears,
she recites the arcane soprano,
mysteriously arriving with bold intentions,
departing in a way as arcane as she.

If she could be I and he would remain he,
then he and I-he and she-broke sin after sin
only to follow every desire aching, itching,
in their inferno imagination.
A result of our collaboration,
such an ingenious yet unforeseen pair,
can compare to the collaboration made
by the fingertips brushing on the keys
and the saxophone flaunting harmonically.