| Cadence It was the fluidity of notes that rolled fom his bass like smoke from the tip of my two first fingers. Its melody wrapped my body in exotic silk, rubbing its romance all over my skin, hints of black cherry confection and he was inside me with a formal introduction to patron on the rocks and hand rolled cigarettes; our swollen bodies steeped in the lingering scent like we were lovers, even if for only one night. Quantified fame returns a girl agogged, heightened cacophonies bellow beneath aching bodies uninterested in divulging why a cow is considered sacred or why time is equal to art, because in this moment and in this synchrony, there lies only one heart. |