The Stars Are His Oxygen

"Please stop."

She wrapped her bony arms
around his arms and chest
and hung on like barbed wire,
but his fingers kept on dancing
through the pain

"Please just stop."

In the melting night,
the smooth ebony wood and ivory
were turning into charcoal
beneath his fingertips
and not even the dripping sweat
running down his face
could put out the fire

"Stop."

The dissonance from the
broken keys and fluttering sheets
echoed through the smoke-filled air
lit with violent, crackling flames
as the girl went limp around his neck,
but he didn't care

He kept on playing,
though his lungs were beginning
to fill with ashes and soot
because the stars are
his oxygen