She sought and sought and sought again, dreaming in rhapsody, in harmony, in motions and silhouettes, breathing, sliding, cajoling, smiling, and giggling when she felt dizzy, compelled to move back into his embrace. Beneath each of his caresses she shuddered, begged for more, more, more, but didn’t give them voice, reached for his form, for his figure, for the rigors of strength, for the pinnacles of everything she craved, everything she’d fought for. The yearning seemed molten, brimming, brewing, curling and coiling just beyond – like the heavens, like the clouds, like the sky, like the cool hues of their northern lights or the warm, vibrant, exotic colors dazzling the sights. Her breath floated along his skin, pulsing, whispering, a thousand kisses placed in the lowering of her lashes, in the mellifluous delight, in the cherubic, pervading essence of all her glories, of all her virtues, of all her wishes turning to more than just mere daydreams, fantasies, or dim, distant hallelujahs. The Songbird could hear his voice rising above it all, a serenade, a symphony, and only for her; allowing herself the guilty pleasure of taking every ounce of his voice, his touch, leaning into the beck and call, the quiet murmurs, the dulcet reels. Her heart purred and her mind melted, twisting her form back into his, smile lifting to stroke over his cheek, to flush along his jaw, to run parallel with all the unsaid crescendos whirling through her chest. Her soul, her essence, her entity, sizzled and simmered, breathed in carnal delights, in what lay beyond, in what could be, and laid the foundations of promises down his throat, then motioning towards his ears, where the lush whisper could coil and settle there, become chieftain of her aspirations and desires. “Then let’s do more than dream.” Action within eloquence, bold and brazen, the coy nature coaxed and ignited, and she giggled there too, alive and audacious, springing into those vivacious roles, where she’d pursued, where she’d chased, where she’d run after so many ambitions to only have them wither, crack, and die – but not in this moment, not in this instance. She refused to disregard one more restless, fervent, ardent longing. Instead, the nymph launched permission, to forge ahead, to surge beyond their dedications and commitments, farther, farther, and farther still – a sojourn she’d never traversed but would gladly, fervidly, wander with him.
 
“I love you,” she breathed, she mused, she sang, a jubilant, beautiful tune, weaving it through the air so it could only land in his ears, in his skin, in his entity. She said it hundreds of times over too, as she laced it down the length of his nape, twisted it along his mane, curled it down the length of his broad shoulders and spine, notched it between his chest and his heart – so if he were to listen, anytime, anywhere, he’d hear the sonnets nestled from her lips, arched, lifted, from her harmonic refrain. She could’ve told him so many others thing too (I want you sounded like too much but not enough, I need you sounded like desperation, when neither seemed hopeless; they were the exact opposite truly – absorbed, drenched, and swallowed by the notion of endlessness and eternity). Perhaps she could’ve said when she’d truly fallen, when her heart had skipped far too many beats, when she’d wished to be his and him to be hers, when the liberation and deliverance he bestowed upon her had been so grand, so great, that she should’ve wept. None of the words could find themselves released from her mouth though; they weren’t poetic enough, they weren’t expressive enough, they didn’t have the right syntax or intonation, so she believed he’d take her love and honor it instead; because she could at least say that over and over and over, extend it as gospel truth, as poignant, mellifluous reverence. Then she quieted, drew back to stare at him, at everything (because he was the sun, because he was the moon, because he was the earth and the sea), laughed, twisted, spun, and pivoted so they seemed like one and the same, her haunches pressed close to his chest, molded to him, swiveled into his embrace.