Heart String Lyre

The pain of love.

Pluck your nails
Against my heart-string lyre;
Play the chords
Go on, play a little higher.

Run your teeth
Against my nerve-cord harp;
Hear that lovely note
Go on,
Play it sharp.

Beat your fists
Against my muscle-fiber lute;
Break my control,
Shatter my silence,
Make me minute.

Rip apart my body,
Tear apart my mind;
Manipulate me like an instrument
Don't be sloppy.

You sit back
And watch then in aggravation;
There is nothing left to play.

I applaud your performance,
And commend your presentation;
Then I beg you:
Please stay.