The tempo starts low, the sound is slight. I can feel the beat intensify, pounding heavy against my chest. My hands tremble at the recollection of your fingertips drawing themselves against my palms, clasping and weighty on my heart. Suddenly we’re dancing in harmony to the composition of lies and broken promises, lost in endless conversations that led to something more profound than heartache. Your voice is a whisper between rhythm and rhyme, elusive, just like your reflection. Memories strain this tranquil ballad, leaving the tease of your kiss to linger amidst these sonnets. The melody fades, like a trance, with the pulsing high of a crescendo left stirring in my veins.