The Sound of a Woman's Touch

I had a song in my head. it was one of those songs that can't truly ever be transcribed to cleffs, captured by a reed's whistle or a violin's resonance. A beat that is there in the song, but not physical, not sound sound sound sound, not a repetitious roll or thum of string or drum. Too beautiful for this world. is thought in this world? the song grievously told of a melancholy tale. Before it was heard on a piano, i had called it the sound of a woman's touch, a very synastegic syntactic anomaly. but, after the ivories possessed me for a duration of world-time, a new name undulated. how phenomenal! an undulation of the titillating title. the song did not transgress sound, touch, or a woman, though those were undoubtedly all part of it. it was greater: a man and a woman, conversing, touching. and, with how pathetic and accentuated the feelings! the man and woman must be at the apex of a relationship, the touching must be 'al naturale', the song of dialogue must not be happy, for the song is sad...no they must discuss in the moment that Donne would consider other-worldly or even supernatural something that is dark, is tainted. A confession! but, let it be that it is a confession neither of blame or lacking blame to either member. that is, it is neither entirely his or her fault, neither is it entirely not their fault. let it be that another man affixed himself on the divine lips of either the man or the woman, and, the other member had feelings about such a matter. that is not presumptuous. let us hope the conflict was between another man and the woman. let us say that it was not once, not twise, but some number of times, of world-time that he kissed her...and the greatest moment arose when she would confess. Of course he would still love her! perhaps not the her that he had dated, perhaps not the girl he first thought he knew, of course it couldn't possibly be her that had wanted this...she said she did, but for good reasons right? not out of love, but out of egotism? vanity, a need to be seen? how is that right? or is it that it is wrong, but it is less wrong than the alternative, that she loves him? she did, you know. she loved him, in a puppy love kind of way. here is the shift in the center of the song, the possibly minor, maybe major interlude...and yet it drifts back to melancholy madness. not madness, more magnanimous, if that is a word, more moreness and less timid taciturn tickling feeling. the morals and lessons, i once wrote. morals are what you have going in, the lessons are what you have going out. i am in the moment, when the moral is the lesson, but the lesson is not yet defined by the morals. there is a resolution to the song. i know it! i feel it coming, like the expected ending to a story that still surprises you. i hope i find the true song as beautiful.