I sent my musical miniature motion pictures.
You must have glanced at the stills,
not invested enough to watch
any of the three minute videos 
of my heart wailing her blues,
plucking on her own sinewy strings,
one grizzly bloody nylon strand per chamber,
perfectly tuned for the right ear.
A few months later you asked,
genuinely unaware,
Oh, you sing?
Are you any good?