She was bright but muted
Her heart didn't sing for me
But the vibrato of her strings kept me searching for the sound. Her melody echoing from the chambers of her chest was what I was searching for. One sign that she could play her tune for me.
Her eyes were dull but beautiful. The way she held herself was like a royal, tall and perfect. Extraordinary, however put together in a perfect arrangement. Like a puzzle whose pieces were cut to be fitted with care.
I am nothing like that. All I would be is a broken puzzle who had lost all it's pieces but one.
My heart had a song once, like her. It was deep but careful, like a cello. A cello who had given its sound to the world.
That same world, would turn to be cold and wretched. My new strings turned untuned and worn, never cleaned and soon rusted over. My A string pulled away and snapped, my Open D be covered in rosin and stripped away from my neck.
I hoped that soon, like her, my puzzle would be restored. My puzzle piece interlocking with hers, and becoming the perfect picture.
Our sounds of the pieces snapping together would play a symphony never heard, only by us but played forever.
I had hoped that would come.
However, I don't believe I remember any notes.
