Voices often enter his ear as the sound of music, voices turn into consistent tones and fluctuation bounces off of the eardrum as a beat.
He tells me my voice is a sweet Lullaby, soothing the souls of the deaf.
He plays me as well as his instruments, he takes his time to familiarize himself with my indentations and creases,
He picks up on what notes seep from my pours, making adjustments as he goes.
He is gentle and careful with his words, knowing that an off beat would turn me astray.
His love is written as sheet music that is hard to make out.  
But, In hopes that you may learn the rhythm of his soul, You press your ear to his chest, listening and imitating the thumping of his heartbeat; going at your own pace, you perfect each cord and tune whenever you find yourself stuck-
your intentions were always pure, and he commended you for following along for so lone, yet the duration of this music lesson was mistaken for absentminded love.
and like any great song, it ended, and he was gone.