Author : Pyai (aka Megan Hoffman)
She fingered the tendons in her arms. They were the echo of guitar strings and as she bent her fingers she could strum out different notes. She sighed, and the air rushing through her vocal chords sounded like a soft string section warming up, a quiet hum of a 440 A. A hand from the man lying next to her reached over to splay his fingers on her bare chest. They caressed their way down to her ribs, where each one, if lightly stroked, would sound like a piano key. She carried the pentatonic scale on the left side of her chest, and the in-between notes on her right. The man leaned over and kissed her C.
Her body had already played a symphony with the man lying next to her, his silent body a continual mystery to her. She couldnâ€™t imagine how sad and lonely it must be to not carry such music within oneself.
Instead he would just marvel at her own notes, worshiping and composing with the same touches over her skin. She couldnâ€™t bear the thought of silence, and sometimes very late at night she would hold her breath and long for the sound of a duet.