His Heart?

There is a heart beneath layers of skin. There is a heart behind his habits, his behavior. A heart maybe not of gold, but silver so pure and so very soft. This heart that keeps him alive, keeps her alive too. It's the same heart that beat when he wrote her fifty songs for their fifty days. And he lives for her almond-scented skin. He lives for her sound.
He's seen the world and the world's seen him.
I write this because I know he will never read it. He's far away.
In my eyes he's forever blue.