So he plays with me
As if he plays with his guitar;
Feeling the entire vibrations of my body
Before even touching the cords.
He knows how to tighten and loosen
My entire senses.

So he plays with me
As if he plays his drums.
From the most silent touches,
To the stormy moves,
And with the beats getting faster,
We travel together
Over the silent oceans toward the African blues.

So he plays with me
As if he plays his violin;
From tears to laughter,
From life to death,
From love to sex,
Sex to love,
Death to life,
Laughter to tears…
A relief.

So he listens to me
As if listening to the most delightful piece of music;
Changing from whispers to screams,
Screams to silence,
Emotions to intelligence,
Intelligence to nonsense,
Mixture of all words,
Even wordless from time to time.

So he loves me,
Like a delicate song;
Timeless, classic,
Without exaggeration and lies,
No promises, no hidden agendas.
So he loves me
And turns me into a woman,
Making me alive,
With the notes of love.

Deniz Kite, 17th December 2007,
Listening to Sarah Brightman