His Beloved. (Inspired by CrypticPoet)

Today I read the lyrics to a broken record,
Screeching as the record was, I listened. Attentively.
In this medium room, filled with leather chairs and dusty books
The library stayed dusty either way.

Then I noticed a young man with dark hair
He'd fallen into a sweet sleep for a while now,
But woke up with a frightened face
He searched the room as though he'd seen a ...ghost
The record stopped.
His chest rose rapidly, but eventually fell dormant
I searched his face and located a tear halfway down his cheek,
But he smiled as though a promise was made to him,
A promise that could keep him holding on,
A promise made by His Beloved.
I smiled, "I'll make that broken record okay again, My Beloved."
And just like that, I vanished.

(Your Beloved roams your world still, CrypticPoet. Please hold on.)