You are my renaissance man.
1920's cool.
The Hughes to my Langston
The hues to my blues.
Tears flow from my eyes
As the negro speaks of rivers and blue skies.
Wanting to be near you like Minnie, mooching off of your intellectual jazz and Calloway swag.
Fats Waller playing the ivories as I give you the keys to my heart at my own rent party.
Jazz filled sounds of trumpets, saxes, and trombones play legato notes on my intellect.
Each slurred note slaying me into a world of chromatic agony.
Knowing music is my weakness, I can't counteract with a harmonic.
Already too much dissonance in our love chord.
You made a Duke Ellington crescendo in my life giving me the weary blues.
A weary torment I will endure for a lifetime.
Your words are my jazz.
Your eyes are the blues to me.
But there's no place Id rather be
On a night like tonight in Harlem.