Midnight.
Darkness.
The soft yellow light that barely pierces our blinds from the street lamp below.

My senses heighten with each passing second.

I begin to hear the rhythm of your breath. The pound of your heart. The softness of you pulling me closer, even in slumber.

My imagination takes hold.

You are a song.

You are a song without lyrics.
For the most beautiful of symphonies have no words.
You, my love, are a symphony.
Majors and minors.
Strings.
Wind.
Perfection.

Your breath on my shoulder; the melody.
Your heart's rhythm against my breast; the bass.
Your sleepsweet mumbling; the harmony.

Your hand upon my hip.
Our legs intertwined.
We move closer and closer as your song plays on.
Softly.
Sweetly.

I can feel the love on your skin.
Sinking into me.
Traveling deep in my veins.
Filling my breast.
Warming my ribs.

My sweet symphony.