Page 41 of Poetry By Dead Men
I think I listened for youin the songs of the birds
A melody calling to the rhythm of my heart
So hang on tight, my love.
It’s just the start.
When your body’s tired and heavy are your eyes
When the world tries to break you with believable lies
I’ll be right there with you through your lows and your highs
You’re safe in the arms of someone who loves you.
Oh I prayed for youwithout speaking the words
And I listened for youin the songs of the birds
A melody calling to the rhythm of my heart
So hang on tight, my love
It’s only the start
Bobby finally meets my eyes, and they’re so full of love and devotion it makes me almost dizzy.
If your words stop flowing, I’ll be your rhyme
And if the clock stops ticking, I’ll find you time
Because I am yours, and you darling, are mine
And you’re safe in the arms of someone who loves you.
I can barely see him through the tears now, and while I'm not quite sure when I started crying, I can't seem to stop them. The song is beautiful. Utterly perfect. I'm speechless and overwhelmed and a little sad, because part of me wishes this song could just be mine and Bobby's.
But I could never ask that of him. Could never ask him to keep it private and not play this for an audience or record it for an album.
It's too amazing.
Too perfect.
The song itself might be about me, but it will never be only mine. It'll belong to a bride and groom as they sway back and forth for their first dance, or a mother singing it to her first child. It'll belong to anyone and everyone who will ever love another, will be the soundtrack to humid, magical summers when the sun stays out late and people fall in love.
The last chord rings out, and I shift closer.
“You really wrote that for me?” I ask. Just like my favorite poems, his words have given me chills, have caused me to feel a longing deep in a hidden part of me. I want to hang them on my wall and tattoo them on my skin.
He nods, reaching forward to cup my cheek, callused fingers caressing my skin. “I love you, Beth,” he answers. “Everysong is for you.” Bobby moves to sit beside me, then pulls me gently on top of him until I’m straddling his thighs.
Strong hands weave through my unbound hair, and I know there are no words I could find to express how much I love him, too. So, I simply lean down, brushing my lips against his.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Bobby’s only answer is a groan as I deepen the kiss, his lips parting as my tongue sweeps inside, exploring the mouth that sang such beautiful, soul-moving lyrics.
My body takes over, and even with his hands roaming beneath the hem of my shirt, even as I rock against him, rolling my hips where he’s grown thick and hard beneath me, I need to be even closer.
