With percussion’s rhythm, my feet
Plunked down on the mansion’s cold tile.
I brought you a dozen sterling
Roses, and I could see your smile

Conducting my heart’s orchestra
To crescendo to a forte,
And my imagination could
Hear what sweet graces you would say

As your emerald eyes glisten,
And your cascade of spun gold shines.
Our romance is magical, for
Each day seems like St. Valentine’s.

Music was my first, true love, but
You conquered me like Darius
Or Alexander would have since
My position’s precarious.

I searched for you. When I left you
Were practicing the violin.
Blithely I entered the chambers,
But your treason slaughtered my grin.

A primal beast emerges as
You touch my Stradivarius,
My pride and my love. How could you
Do something so nefarious?

It matters not if it was just
A brush along its ancient string.
I could no longer bear to live,
Should it no longer bear to sing,

Breathing vivid, harmonious
Life into this stale, pallid world.
With a rabid snarl and oath, I
Lunge at you as if you had hurled

This, my soulmate, through the window
To crash into the blighted lake
Beneath the balcony. I run
To where you are and from you take

Back the utmost sanctity of
My family’s treasured heirloom.
It’s safe. I sigh. Angrily, I
Turn and shove you across the room.

“Disobedient, brainless louse!”
As you burst into feminine sobs,
My tirade continues. Justice
Within my bitter heart now throbs.

Inspecting my love, I remove
Her strong G to be a garrote.
You’re still sniveling as I wrap
It around your porcelain throat.

I pull hard. The shock in your eyes
Tells me that you don’t understand,
Among many other things, why
It is that I would lift my hand,

Which your trimmed claws now gouge at, to
Correct one as lowly as you;
But the answer’s simple. You have
Done what you were not supposed to.

Remember, there’s one instrument
Alone you were allowed to touch—
Me. Your covetous eyes now see
That your life is not worth as much

As the master’s hourglass gem
Perfected centuries long past.
That’s struck a tender chord, for I
See at last that your eyes have glassed.

I kiss your orbs. My sweet it’s a
Shame I had to do this to you,
Like my father did my mother,
And I did to the other two.

What is it about you young girls
That makes you fail to realize
The gravity of my words? Are
Your heads full of nonsense and sighs?

I release the garotte and you
Crumple into my leather couch
With a thud. It’s like the sight of
Loose change falling into a pouch.

I set about to tune my G.
Catgut has many properties.
I’ll play something fit for the dead
Love now lying across my knees.

This violin has long been cursed.
Your head now rests upon my lap.
She that touches it shall die. You’re
Safe from jeopardy and mishap.

Let’s begin with Bach’s Suite 3’s Air.
What was my surprise as I played,
For my soul’s appendage had ne’er
Sounded finer before this day.

I lay a grateful kiss upon
This head of yours that I adore.
Your body’s as cold as my feet
Resting on the black marble floor.

My aspiring protégé and
Lover, why have you gone so slack?
Does this transcendental peace come
Because I honor Dvorák?

The windows to your soul are still,
Enraptured by my melody.
I understand, for Humoresque’s
Never sounded sweeter to me.

Nor has it made me reminisce
About putting your whole soul in
The performance. Since I’m rich and
Famous, I can commit no sin.