I fell in love with a girl made of music.

When she spoke, it was like music. An escalating crescendo of a Capella music, bouncing and changing at different intervals. At different levels, settings, objectives. Her diction alone made instruments materialize. Her tone, her articulation - like music. The most beautiful music I had ever heard. An alluring music, magical - pulchritudinous, even! A whole orchestra exploding with sound, echoing off the walls, pitched and positioned on the complete center stage. Big. Big music. So much music. A harmonica, a banjo, a flute.

Her instruments when fully materialized, were confidence. When feeling insecurities she would simply stop - stand up right, statuesque and stare. She would not turn, not falter. No decrescendo. Just keep escalating. No silence, no pianissimo. Just keep singing, keep dancing, keep going. But this was rare. No abrupt distractions would follow, no sense of awkwardness. A solider. She was a soldier. A soldier of music. The charm of her was incredible though. Her voice becoming deeply mellifluous. Classy inflection, rather manipulative, but vivid.

See, pretty soon. I had no idea what her face even looked like, or what she wore, or that she even really existed in a physical sense. I mean, she was music.

And who can resist a woman, who is practically made of music?