My Sleeping Symphony

He was so intricately composed;
I would sometimes stare, in awe of this melodic form that lay next to me.

His heartbeat, the gentle metronome that his existence kept in tune with.

His breath was the purest voice my ears had ever heard. His words (when he was awake) were my favorite chorus; I would listen incessantly.

I could hear the music when I touched him,
I could hear the notes as my fingertips traced the curves of his skin.

When we kissed the moment before our lips met always seemed like hearing the first note of your favorite song on the way to your favorite place.

He was mine.
We were our own harmony.

His heartbeat was my favorite melody,
His existence was my favorite song.

Oh, but why did he have to sleep so long? //