Unfaithful Hands

Black ivory and pearls connected to drums lay waiting, hoping to burst into symphonic praise.
They won't be toyed with today by anything other than sunbeams
playfully running their fingers across the taught strings
and carefully tracing the golden rims.
Pieces of paper littered with the minds of great men
who donated their skulls to the world at large
before passing away to be forgotten forever more,
leaving behind no more than the legacy of a soul.

But you don't follow music.
You just let you hands crawl seductively along.
You play each string like a cassanova,
making love to one then moving to another,
but never two at once. At least you stay true for a moment in time,
even if not for a whole measure.
Don't tell me you love me more than her
because I know it isn't true. Anyone who can trade ladies like that could never be loyal,
but if you will settle for second best sometimes, I will content myself in your hands,
in watching them swerve and dance, like a bird in the air.
Birds dance the best of all creatures, even bears.
Hold her carefully, touch her gently, don't let go.
I want to hear you play her some more. I know you are cheating on me, but I like the sound.
So play it like you love her, but play it only for me.