disclaimer: eternal sonata is not mine.
cantabile
It starts with a kiss.
.o.
With effort, he learns how to make her smile, make her laugh, but he's always known how to break her heart.
.o.
Soft and sweet and oh so chaste, but somehow, he cannot pull away.
.o.
He's not sure that anyone else catches it, but there's a certain rhythm in the way he says her name, and how her eyes light up.
.o.
Breath hitched, he is compelled to continue, heart racing, lost in the deepest melody of undressing clothes and exploring this hidden form of art.
.o.
Cheek, chin, shoulder, he takes absolute care not to go any further until they both burn and ache for a romantic polonaise.
.o.
Tangled within kisses, hips buck and music rises into a frantic frenzy and their breathy gasps are the perfect chords in a harmony.
.o.
When he falls, he falls hard, yet somehow, she is there: ready to catch him.
.o.
And oh, she comes undone, singing such a beautiful tune.
.o.
He pulls her close and closer still, and together they breathe, the cycle repeating like notes of dusty parchment.
.o.
Neither are sure if they want this composition to ever end.