He likes prose, while she loves poetry.
He loves short stories, while she loves novel.
He's a composer, while she's a writer.
He plays intruments, while she doesn't.
She loves music, but not as much as he does.

And it's just that--
Almost the same, but somehow different.
But at the end of the day, it only says one thing:
One cannot fit in a world telling him to do otherwise.

And he'd to accept the painful reality of how things aren't always meant for each other.