The Musician (my metaphors to her)

I am a musician,
I play with passion and precision,
tonight, I want you to be my human instrument,
I want to make music with you, like we always do,
I already know the inner bass player in you,
I know that a drummer kick exists in you,
I’ve always had a thing for rhythm and blues,
so lets make something to grind to,
I’ve wondered what the spoken word would sound like over you,
Whatever way I handle you,
I am sure we can make an unforgettable tune,
first,
I will use your lips as a harmonica,
sliding all over,
moving from the
left to the right
then center,
I will hold you like a guitar
and strum your stomach with my fingers tips,
I won’t neglect an inch,
for you are my human instrument,
When I look at you
all I see is music,
TREBLE CLEFS !
when I look at your palms I see,
Between the heart,life and head lines I read,
crochets, minims and semibreves

our bodies cling,
you tucked in,
with your head under my chin,
my hands playing with your hair,
like a bow across the strings of a violin,
my hands playing with your organs,
hitting keys of emotion,
your vocals over our instrumental,
you have more curves
than a french horn,
and have a body like a saxophone,
I want to pull you in 
like the sliding piece of a trombone
and kiss you,
blowing into you like a trumpet,
The valves at the back of your neck 
is where my fingers rest
I want you as my human clarinet,
I want you as my human harmonica,
I want you as my human tuba,
I want you as my human instrument.