A wistful gaze into her irises of cocoa tones, his own eyes telling of much more; a yearning to utter that which resides within his heart. A music that his heart sings, of love and trust and devotion. All that is concealed, shielded behind a near impervious armour, a shell masking the innermost truths. Cracks form, and thus slivers bleed through for her, always for her. He allows it, and she welcomes it, with open arms she embraces it. And, to him, her heart plays a song of its own, more apparent, more revealing than his. And yet, her heart still hears his ballad that sings so much, yet not revealing itself too explicitly on the surface. Yet, she knows; eternally she knows.
'Til the end of her days, she knows.
THE END