Golden Violin

He made a song about me

Sang to me like therapy

Enthralled by his golden violin

He pledged his devotion

In pieces of poetry

And rock and roll

He embedded me in his lyrical psalm

And choruses made of dishevel and disarray

His instrumentals warmed my soul

With convoluted weave

And composition

More than a symphony

He loitered over the architecture

Of my camber and disposition

And penchant for acoustics

And four-letter words

I was content in his euphoric melody

As he seized my guileful cloak

To scream fuck me

To ruffle me

In the ballads

He played so beautifully