Her feet bring her up the stage
Buds burst, willows weep
Lumbar muscles contort the rest into a chair
Bloomingdales bags crumple
Wrists soar and whistle her up
Balloons fly,
And pop
Fingers hammer down like swans on black keys
Nails scratch staccato notes
And tears

My heart beats with dissonance—
the kind of clash that grits teeth
and twists pretty faces.
Still, she pulses, unforgiving,
to her own imbalance,
aware of her existence;
aware that the definition of music
is infinite,
and her song will never beg
to be understood.

Mhm
Maybe it's me, who's afraid of commitment
Maybe it's you, who's notion is not to listen
Maybe it's us who seem to rather die than fall in love...

Mhm
Maybe I've lied, in your arms for too long
Maybe you've dived, too deep into my soul
Thought it was us, we who would grow old
And together reinvent love...

But why?
Why don't we try to stay?
Is it easier to just get up and walk away?
We fight but not for the reason of love...
Oh, not for the reason of love

Girl, talk to me..let the words fly like butterflies
My net in hand, I'll catch all your truth and lies
Because that is love
It's a war of words, pain and lies
But we still gotta try

Mhm
Divide our hearts, add them together and watch our bond multiply
Let me give you wings, the power of my affection will make you fly
Please hold my hand, if you let me go I just may die... Ohh baby can't we try...
Said "she's tired of love...@

But why?
Why don't we try to stay?
Is it easier to just get up and walk away?
We fight but not for the reason of love...
Oh, not for the reason of love

Oh no no no not the reason of love
It's cold out side but she's rather not come in, the sun can shine but she rather it rain my sins, the leaves are falling just like us,
So much change but we refuse to fight...

(Piano)
We refuse to fight for...the reason of love.

It's like you play the piano in me.
Your knowing fingers
touching, playing, dancing on
my emotions. (like piano keys)
all alike, until they feel your touch
and moan in music -
the melody of that madness,
a love song
echoing endlessly
and fully, in
the silence between us.

the piano
a deep baritone
and somewhere
the steady hum
of a television
i wake limbs
lethargic
from the magic
of a siesta
and he sings
my eyes heavy
my heart light
i stretch
languorously
the kettle hisses
the shapes
of the afternoon
the lilies cast
a shadow
the light changes
and the piano
touches
chords deep
in my body
places i had forgotten
memories of times
long ago, kisses
under the velvet
canopy of stars
so bright
and dancing
and laughing
of youth
carelessly spent
and smoky kisses
over the river
the sweet tea
brings me back
to now
the drone
of the television
back to mediocrity
and life
but he plays
and there are dreams

Sitting on the gloss ebony bench of the stand up, I think of you. The shine of the ivory keys reminds me of your smile. Brilliant pearl teeth pulled back to the most stunning smile. Almost always your head tilted slightly to the right.
Placing my hands on the chilled keys, the air conditioner on even in these winter days. I think of your old house with the ever opened door, and the fan making ambient noise in the background. The way I would always joke to my friends that you were very hot, and the shocked look on their face that I used common day slang to describe looks. The laugh I would hold back as only I knew I was describing the seemingly everlasting heat in your house, and the small amount of night clothes you wore because of it.
Looking through sheet music, I fish through the book for a song to play. Frustrated and unable to find any of them interesting, I play random chords. Stringing notes together I hit a single note, and suddenly a song comes to mind. Nameless, I hit D6 again, then again. Like nostalgia slowly my right hand reminisces to the next note, and the next, left hand taking after it. Slowly my hands flood the keys with memories, melodies reminding me of the way you would dance. Each movement linked to the next, as if it were a fluid conversation.
Slowly my eyes begin to fill with tears and I begin to shake. Eyes filling to the brim, I swallow the pain in my throat and allow myself to finish the song. Last notes reminding me of how it had all started. The simplicity in a simple greeting, and the resonate sound of your absence.
Hitting the last chord I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes, and sit at the piano, willing myself, not to give into the emotions I feel. I know better than to express that sort of emotion. It’s utterly useless to express emotional pain. It only takes away and never gives. Optimism is a gift to others. If you express your sadness it will only allow you to get used to showing it. I’ve learned it’s better to hide it.
Hearing my father walking into the hallway, I place my hands on the keys and tilt my head down. Feigning contemplation, and smiling as he passes. He asks if I’m making progress, and forcing a laugh I say yes. So he moves to the door on the other end of the room and leaves for the backyard.
Looking back the keys, I force a grin. Hoping I can smile the pain away. Chest tightening as I reach for the binder of musical theater songs next to the piano. Remembering when I had first bought it to hold a song I planned to learn for you. Opening it, I find the song in side pocket.
“Prologue”

It's like a leech
It clings to every memory I own, it infiltrates all my senses

I see his face everywhere in the faces of strangers

I hear his final words to me through the sigh he gave as I told him I wished we could have worked, that he should keep me in mind should he change his

I smell him every time I sit at my piano and think of the times we spent poring over Faure and wishing the recital were over

I touch him every time the white keys glide under my skin and the black ones poke my fingers into submission

I taste him on the tip of my tongue as I try in vain to forget the past

He was my train wreck and thinking of him makes me hate myself, what he hated, what he told me he wanted and then told me he would never want in a million years.

So I pushed him to the back of my head,
But his afterlove
Just clings
To my heart
Instead.

The streets, plain
The scenery, new but unchanged
The city, now black and white
The candle that failed to ignite
The crisp morning air
The usual affairs
The same unheated ground
Then there was a faint sound
The leaves started to sway
There was a presence of warm sun rays
The grass and flowers danced
The prospect, enhanced
All because my ears have found
A vaguely familiar and new sound
An enamoring explosion of melody
An enthralling harmony
A beguiling musicality
An enslaving euphony
A perfect array of notes
Flowing with a hypnotic coat
A piercing tune
Resembling a rune
It's rhythm, throbbing
It's tempo, moving
The sound was too perfect and strong
That it seemed like a torturous song
Nonetheless, it was a beautiful beat
Beautiful enough to move my feet
What I heard was an alluring sound
That eventually made me slide through the ground
I closed my eyes and followed what I heard
Walking, searching, to clarify the blurred
The faint sound, grew louder
Eventually I was overpowered
While seeking for the source of the hymn
I turned into a willing victim
My feet have stopped moving
When I saw a man, the man who was playing
My eyes settled upon his silhouette
Which was in contrast to the sunset
There he was, sitting on a wooden stool
Unknowingly making all the listeners drool
His fingers fluttering atop black and white keys
Creating color through a musical breeze
I saw him, that man
Still playing, talking through his hands
I followed a sound and saw a pianist
And then my heart was kissed
Not because of the music that made my ears fuss
Not because he splashed paint all over the dull canvas
But because of how he looked at the instrument
It's as if, for the piano, his eyes were meant
How he gazed upon it with those eyes
As if the piano was his only prize
How he goggled the piano with those eyes
As if for that instrument he was willing to agonize
As if he can only see the piano
As if there was only him and the piano
It was that look that little girls dream of
It was that look that symbolized love
That look that little girls wished were for them
That look that would give little girls contemn
That look that was only for the piano
That look that was pure as snow
That look was colorful and honestly warm
That look that entrapped a celestial swarm
That look which was gentle and intense
That look which was passionate and immense
That look which was alive, painful and afraid
In that moment, I longed for a shooting star's aid
As if a little girl, I wished for what little girls wish for
I wished for him to look at me like that, nothing more
But none can compare with his instrument
Nor to the reason why he plays it with such  intent
To the new girl he plays for
To the girl he currently adores
I hope his sound reaches you
I hope you listen and give him value
I hope you look at him as he plays for you
Look at him like how he looks at the piano when he thinks of you
Like how the crowd looks at him as he plays like this
Like how the little girls look like when they wish
Like how he used to look at the piano
When he misses and plays for the little girl, not too long ago