She smiled as he brushed his fingers over the strings of the guitar, lost in the jungle of music he loves to play.
Again, she fell in love with him, with his skillful caloused hands, and with his fervent strums.
'I wish I am his guitar,' she whispered to herself for she had been always jealous of the instrument. She envied how he poured so much emotion and dedication in every tune he played which she never saw in his eyes in every kiss they shared.
Despite of the songs they sang together on cold, peaceful, starry nights, she knew that she only comes second after the guitar. She knew that his love for her will never dethrone his love for music.
She knew that she will never be 'his guitar'.