While comfort is often found simply in the arms of lovers, mine has been found in the sound of his heart throbbing through his chest guarded by the bones which protect our precious breaths. His murmur is a symphony sung by angels wrapped in the woven skin of one who will never comprehend the beauty of his beat the way I do. One who will never hear for himself. The song which his body sings by force of nature. His mind will never dance to it the way mine can. He will never hear for himself the song he sings Through the pulse of his heart. Louder than the angels, louder than the Sirens of Greece, Louder than a church choir praising how beautiful something so unseen can be. Something so unnoticed, it is music to me. And you can only hear it if he allows you close enough to hear his heartbeat. And my God, this will always be my favorite melody.