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Singing to me in the car as a way to pass the time and make some sound in the silence—something only you would think of. But…I loved it; the way you pressed into me, the way your heart beat in sync with mine. I loved it; the way you mumbled and murmured the words into my neck, breathing in my perfume from earlier on in the night. I loved it; the way it was completely quiet and you’re self conscious of your voice, but you still sang just loud enough for only me to hear.

I’m sorry. But I love you. I was joining you in my head; I knew all the words, and was mouthing them with you. My voice was too shaky to join you. You make me nervous—a collection of wispy shaking and love. You make me something blendable, malleable. Something that can mix with your soul, producing something new—something….us.

I’m glad you sang to me. You don’t know how much it means to me. you probably never will, since it was “nothing major to you”.

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