He was a simple melody, a musical composition sung by female and harmonized by male. A tragedy wrapped up in the resplendent landscape he was, as pulchritudinous as the wind gliding through his hair and over his skin and through his attire.
He was a simple melody, an illimitable feeling tied into stomach knots, a prurience for something more burning in his ocular perceivers as he danced to his own musical composition. The violin he played integrated an equipollent of everything and nothing to his never ending rhythm.
He was a simple melody, and I could not forget him.

Lukas and Mathias had been together for years now, a love tied with a red ribbon, as Lukas was as priceless as the Mona Lisa, his comely porcelain skin burning with ardency and his Indigo eyes gradually melting into nothing but what he believed in. Mathias, he couldn't get enough of him, his abstruse painting who was untouched by anyone but him. And he doted him.
It was a Friday. Mathias cleaned up the house, just to consummate his love's comfort and show Lukas that things unexpected could transpire.
Lukas peregrinated home. The Dane greeted him with a smile, but the radiant grin fell into a cracked, doleful expression. His untouched painting was covered in dirt and cuts, ripped attire and mud. Mathias dropped his hand to his side, afore feeling his throat dry and eyes burn. Lukas looked hurt, but persistently optically canvassed his feet in silence as Mathias gently draped his arms around the Norwegian's shoulders.
Mathias commenced to run the bathtub water, tears commixing in with the water as he sympathized his painting. Lukas divested expeditious, but unlike many others, this time it wasn't provocative. Lukas was tired, beaten, broken. He climbed in, hissing remotely as the warm water seethed into his injuries. It felt good after a while, so he could relax.
Denmark sighed, utilizing a washcloth and body wash to scrub the other's wounds.
"My Luke, what happened to you?" He croaked, not ceasing to verbalize. That's when Lukas lost it, sobbing, screaming, endeavoring to verbalize between piteous gasps and hiccups. Mathias couldn't capture the image in front of him, his comely, priceless doll sobbing to pieces. He could only join him, running his hands through his hair with stress.
"I can't even remember, I only know that...I was breached," Lukas managed to choke out, vision fuzzy. He was commencing to feel light headed.
There were no more words after that, just a painful, sharp silence as Mathias washed the dirt and blood off of the other man, tears still slipping down his face.
Hours later was it over. Mathias dried Lukas off, lending him a sweater to obnubilate all of his chest and arm bandages. Lukas accepted, for he was much too tired to even protest. As the dawn arose, the two snuggled up under the covers, and Lukas heedfully auricularly discerned as Mathias fell asleep, his heart beat the rhythm that kept his melody peregrinated.

He was an intricate melody, many trails, some hazardous and some docile intertwining to become him, his soul, his spirit.
He was an intricate melody, his ocular perceivers content, his body burning with the feeling of love, as if the fire of the chemical were an exorbitant amount of for him to bear.
He was an intricate melody, an encumbrance too astronomically immense lying upon his shoulders, endeavoring to balance electric and acoustic, though the simple melody authoritatively mandated him to not endeavor to live in two worlds.
But he was an intricate melody, and I could not forget him.