The melody of the last song you played for me is hauntingly beautiful even without the sadness or nostalgia that the others have always had. It's like nothing I had ever heard before that night or anything I can find myself listening to all that often. But please don't take that to mean that I disliked it, but instead as the best compliment I can word. Because you see, angel feathers are so soft that they can only be felt by human hands so many times before they feel so slimy and become so soiled that they are no longer able to enjoy the skies. And I don't think that I'd ever be able to sleep again knowing that I am responsible for another fallen seraphim. So please forgive me, Love, if I am not at your next show sitting in the front row, grinning from ear-to-ear, it's just that I don't want to ruin the moment for anyone else later to come.
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