The beginning of the affair was on a Sunday. I distinctly remember this because my to do list slowly became undone. A fascination built inside & it grew until my mind no longer contained it, but, instead, I wrapped up inside it and let it consume me. As with most of my obsessions, I expected it to be short lived. Forget dishes and grocery store trips, I am in my head and all other ideas are lost.
Around 15, I held my first guitar, not my own, but a lovers. Heavy and solid, it hung loosely around my body. Awkward and unsure of what to do with it, I found my fingers lightly strumming over the metal strings, fascinated. Mostly by the musician, not particularly the instrument. I like the way it moans under pressure, but i like the way he moans under pressure more. The humming of a hot body next to mine, groping, finding the softest spots, the ones that make him buck a little. Entwined briefly, all energy exerted into thrusts and sweat pours. The after, laying on the soft grass, watching clouds roll by and the sun drenches us when we step out of the shadows, a secret between us.
Sitting on the foot of my bed, listening to records, he whispers the words to the songs, lightly sings into my ear. Every sense perks up, swallowing words, broken promises meant for someone else. The same words I'd heard, only different when spoken by a long haired boy who plays a guitar. Records became something powerful there in my room. The boy changed, others came, but only the ones who played guitars stayed.
At the foot of a much different bed, I rest the weight on the tops of my legs and stare down at this new lover, so daunting to me. Unlike the others, he managed to captivate me for a lifetime. I am unsure where our relationship stands, too much fear entangled in the love, but today, I am going to break him. Turning it up a notch, I strum my fingers slowly across his strings. All of the skills my hands know won't help me now,so my practice begins. If I have my way, he will fall just in love with me as I am with him, my guitar.
