On evenings like this, she has no place to go.
One of those, well-known lonely chills, sliding greedily across her
skin. The blanket helps but she wishes she could wrap it around her
heart.
The warm, yellowy lights outside her window comfort her eyes. She loves the hue of the lanterns caressing the brick walls, creating spotlights that focus on nothing but bringing light in the dark. An occasional stranger striding past her view on an abandoned outer world. It reminds her of how much she misses her old lover and how she wishes it would be him passing by.
Her fingers slide over the keys of her piano as she plays a memory sweeter than music in her head. It is dangerous to fall in love with a musician, because unlike his love, his music will never fade away from you. After a while, it gets hard to remember his face or even the touch of his skin. But the notes that descended from his heart into his hands, they live on forever.
He would play for her, hours without saying a word. There was so much comfort in the music, the thought that words would only ruin in. There was no need to discuss, to ponder upon, to reflect.
There was just this endless sharing of being together, without having to find reasons to talk.
“Listen,” is all he would say, in between the numbers on the clock changing meaning.
She sometimes doze off, but his voice saying this one word would make her attentive again, and listen she would, until sleep would softly pull her eyelids closed again. She never knew it made him smile, when she opened her eyes briefly as she heard his voice, only to close them again minutes later. It made him feel like she would always be there, no matter how far away she was. She would always hear his voice.
A sigh slipped past her lips, his photo on the piano glistening with the need to be picked up and held.
Sometimes life takes away the good, only to make you realize and see, how blessed you were to once have had it. It shouldn’t make you sad, but hopeful, for any day it could happen again.
Couples break up, friends become strangers, some loved ones even leave this world without a goodbye. Every ending seems infinite and they are, because one day a new beginning will be born out of them.
So what if she would call him, ask him, could he please come over. Try and forget all these words, all these reasons that silenced the music a long time ago.
With delicate care she placed her phone on top of her piano, the buttons still fresh with the trails her fingers left on them. She waited until she heard a crackling sound cutting of the rigid tone of the beeping sounds on the other end. She swore she could hear him breathe. So she started playing.
A song he once named after her and spent his entire Christmas evening trying to teach her, through sweet love-making, too many glasses of Merlot and a shared passion for music. She managed to remember until the next day, and he would teach her again.
Ever since he had gone, she had lost trouble to remember. The melody clinging to her like a burdened child. Now she played it, for him over the phone. She knew, it was the best way to tell him, I miss you. As ever, no words could describe what really needed to be said.
She played, and played, and played some more. Until the sound of her piano could be heard from afar in her phone and a soft knock on her door collided with her melody.
The warm, yellowy lights outside her window comfort her eyes. She loves the hue of the lanterns caressing the brick walls, creating spotlights that focus on nothing but bringing light in the dark. An occasional stranger striding past her view on an abandoned outer world. It reminds her of how much she misses her old lover and how she wishes it would be him passing by.
Her fingers slide over the keys of her piano as she plays a memory sweeter than music in her head. It is dangerous to fall in love with a musician, because unlike his love, his music will never fade away from you. After a while, it gets hard to remember his face or even the touch of his skin. But the notes that descended from his heart into his hands, they live on forever.
He would play for her, hours without saying a word. There was so much comfort in the music, the thought that words would only ruin in. There was no need to discuss, to ponder upon, to reflect.
There was just this endless sharing of being together, without having to find reasons to talk.
“Listen,” is all he would say, in between the numbers on the clock changing meaning.
She sometimes doze off, but his voice saying this one word would make her attentive again, and listen she would, until sleep would softly pull her eyelids closed again. She never knew it made him smile, when she opened her eyes briefly as she heard his voice, only to close them again minutes later. It made him feel like she would always be there, no matter how far away she was. She would always hear his voice.
A sigh slipped past her lips, his photo on the piano glistening with the need to be picked up and held.
Sometimes life takes away the good, only to make you realize and see, how blessed you were to once have had it. It shouldn’t make you sad, but hopeful, for any day it could happen again.
Couples break up, friends become strangers, some loved ones even leave this world without a goodbye. Every ending seems infinite and they are, because one day a new beginning will be born out of them.
So what if she would call him, ask him, could he please come over. Try and forget all these words, all these reasons that silenced the music a long time ago.
With delicate care she placed her phone on top of her piano, the buttons still fresh with the trails her fingers left on them. She waited until she heard a crackling sound cutting of the rigid tone of the beeping sounds on the other end. She swore she could hear him breathe. So she started playing.
A song he once named after her and spent his entire Christmas evening trying to teach her, through sweet love-making, too many glasses of Merlot and a shared passion for music. She managed to remember until the next day, and he would teach her again.
Ever since he had gone, she had lost trouble to remember. The melody clinging to her like a burdened child. Now she played it, for him over the phone. She knew, it was the best way to tell him, I miss you. As ever, no words could describe what really needed to be said.
She played, and played, and played some more. Until the sound of her piano could be heard from afar in her phone and a soft knock on her door collided with her melody.
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