It started with a song.
It wasn’t sung particularly well. Or catchy or even well written. It was a song of beauty regardless, and one that she wouldn’t know until nearly a year after she heard it, that it would become the only song on her head. A symphonic crescendo with a 50-piece orchestra creating memories out of melody and passion from tempo.
It was loud. So magnificent and loud, making her forget she was a single person living a single life.
And she loved him, with every fibre of her being she loved him harder and purer than she had ever loved before. He filled every thought, every breath and step. Like an addiction, she itched when she couldn’t have him; which was unfortunate, because she couldn’t.
She couldn’t tell him she loved his eyes and his voice, his mind and his energy. She couldn’t tell him how she ached for his touch on her hair, her face, her thigh.
No.
She couldn’t have him. For to take him as her own would shake the world. Would change everything she thought she ever knew about anything. Would give her such an overwhelming sense of completion in her soul, that it could very well leave her body in its satisfaction.
She wanted him more than air, food and sex, ultimately wanted to share those things with him...
No. She couldn’t have him. He wasn’t hers to have, to claim and hold any stakes to.
Oh, but she was his. He knew it too, but if he only knew how thoroughly she belonged to him. What she would give to tell him those words.
“I’m yours.”
“I belong to you”
“I love you.”
The words repeated in her head every single day. Every moment he was there in her mind, as automatic as the instructions for her heart to beat.
Yes, she most definitely was his.
No. She couldn’t have him. She couldn’t have the rising violin that was his smile, the crashing symbol that was his passion, not the weeping cello that was his touch, the light flute of his imagination. She clung to the heartfelt saxophone that was his voice, but that too would never be hers.
She heard his song, she loved all that it was, but it was not her song. It was not for her, just as he wasn’t.
And it made her weep, despite its beauty.
She was lost in his song of imagination, passion and curiosity, wanting desperately to join his concerto. To bring her own instruments of desire to him, layering his sound with her own in a delicate rush.
She wanted to be his crescendo, feel his tempo change when she arrived at the place of no return.
No. He didn’t belong to her.
His song was everything to her, nothing to her. She listened endlessly, it was her universe, the hum of her soul and she never wanted it to end.
She’d cover her ears to block out the melody, it was in her head, her heart, her being. There was no getting away.
She was his eternally.
He did not belong to her.
No.
In the end, his song though it permeated through every wanting part of her, it was not for her.
Oh, but it was.
It may not have started that way, but soon the song was for her. He wanted to play it to her preference, make her see the stars and lights that erupted when he was with her.
He wanted to show her the universe through his music, his instruments picked specially for her ears. Chosen his melody to stir her heart and make her body hum.
But she didn’t belong to him.
That was why he played his song. He needed her to hear it, even as she covered her ears in denial. He belonged to her.
She was his light in the dark, the sprinkle of stars in the blanket of night when the moon was new, reminding him he wasn’t completely alone.
She didn’t belong to him.
But damn if he cared. He would be with her in the way he knew he could. He would play her song and she would light his amphitheater; it was fate.
She was made for him, and yet, she didn’t belong to him.
Not in the way he wanted. Everything she touched turned aglow with a warm light. It spread over him and through him, waking him from his darkest nightmares. She drew him in with a warmth unlike any he’d ever felt.
She was bright and inviting, the sun on a cloudy day. Always there, but heat would envelope him as soon as he laid eyes on her.
Her glow was magic, and she filled a room, his mind filled with a wondrous shine.
He never wanted to let her go.
She didn’t belong to him.
She never wanted to let him go.
He didn’t belong to her.
And as the world watched them, lights dimming, music quieting. It knew.
They belonged to each other.
Yet, they did not.
