A cacophony of noise, the warm up,
our pointless chatter.
Then a silence,
one so loud it echoes off the walls
of the concert hall,
the room we're in.
An unnoticed conductor raises his baton,
anticipation builds...

"And one."

The piece begins,
eyes meet and smiles form,
a dreamlike legato.
It doesn't feel real at first.
The french horn plays an inviting note,
you subtly glance to my mouth.
The vibraphone wavers in reply;
I bite my lip and meet your eyes.

An accelerando,
my heart beat, my breath.
It fights to remain unnoticed.
The tubas and the timpani build,
our tension mounting.

Piano to mezzo-forte,
the dynamic rising as my blood
rushes in my ears.
A bass drum pounds,
my pulse.
A flute pierces through the song,
your hand touching my mine.

Mezzo-forte comes to a crescendo
as we begin to lean in.
The accelerando no longer hides,
my heart gallops.
Forte is reached and stalls a moment,
a pause inches away.
A suspended cymbals rolls one last crescendo,
my palm on your cheek.

FORTISSIMO!

Cymbals crash together,
my mouth to yours.
We press together closer
than two bounces of a buzz roll.
A trumpet blares a short solo,
your tongue in my mouth.

The percussion begins to take over,
my lips on your neck.
The winds gasp for breath
and prepare to start again.
Cymbals crash once more!
The symphony maintains!

And then...

A diminuendo and a ritardando,
our mouths slowing.
A trombone slides down,
your fingers on my back.
Most instruments stop early,
our lips parting.
A lone clarinet holds on,
your fingers on my cheek.
The snare drum raps a final tag;
I kiss your forehead.
We lay side by side...
A double bar line.