"I'll play it and tell you what it is later."-Miles Davis

"Dont worry about playing a lot of notes . Just find one pretty one."

   How he wanted to touch her. His fingers coating her skin that he thought would feel smooth. He simply adored her, needed her, cherished her. All from afar. His thoughts trembled with her enticing them. He watched her dance to the jazz music being played within the background. Her hair tied together, leaving peculiar strands casting against her slightly damp temples. The dress she had chosen for said event had tightened in the right way. 

   He wanted to steal her from all of mankind, keep her to himself for him and him only. The way she would smirk and comply with a laugh when told a joke. He wanted to grab her by her broad hips and cherish a moment's life with her. Her eyes, such depth. It seemed as if she has seen the world's sorrow and carried the burden. He wanted to tangle his digits within her locks whispering sweet nothings. Of course, all of these were just wishes off of his wish list. How ironic, she had conquered his life with just a kick of her leg. 

   Taking another swing of alcohol, he continued to admire her from afar. What an amazing singer she was indeed, the voice that left her throat was enthralling. She must've been parched, perhaps he could purchase her a drink. Who was he joking? She would never succumb to him or his wishes. The gloves on her arms were shaded with blue from the light above her person. He was going to take the shot and ask her to be his. He had made way over to the stage and sat himself in the vacant seat just below her, watching with admiration. Her legs swayed from side to side, tights of a dark color sliding against them. She was perfect, at least to him. She thought that she was an unlovable woman, oh how she was in the wrong. Her thinking that she was unlovable only made him love her even more. Her fingers left from her side to the microphone stand, griping on for dear life. Her voice coating his ear drums with ease. 

   How he wanted to have her, to make her love his only. All this, and he had just met her. His eyes went towards her lips, how pink and kissable. He wanted them to kiss him only. Her feet left the stage. The song had been long over. He watched her lift the ends of her crimson gown ever so slightly to prevent her from falling. He made way over to her. "Ma'am, may I have a word..?" His voice shook, his nerves were taking a toll. "Of course." A smile wrapped onto her complexion. Oh, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. "So...I-I...Alright, I know we've only met, but I feel like I've known you for an eternity." She had looked into his pupils, then froze. The rings that held color around them were such fascinating items. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders. 

   Love at first sight, she had heard this phrase used many a time. Though she never quite believed it. She did know this man, just the basics however. His age and his name. The age gap that separated the two seemed like nothing compared to the devotion she had felt. Ignorance will always have a way of running to a subject, especially age gaps. Though she, she didn't care. She believed love had no age, race or gender. And of course, it does not.