help

first love

“i will get to meet you again. no matter what form, greet me happily then.”

with the piano in the corner of my memories;

it was a lonely period for me. all the bridges of my childhood were being destroyed as i watched from my seat, all the burning memories flying by with pain and agony.

“i feel so nice, mom. i feel so nice.”

i desperately tried to get rid of them, tried to mature too fast. but its painful- pain clutches at my chest, sobs racking my body as the empty strings of time are banging away in suffering and loneliness.

“i didn't know your significance back then.”

i used to cherish the sounds of effortless time passing, my pinky hitting the keys just right, one hour, two hours, three, four, five.

with the piano in the corner of my memories;

i try to return to the days of my childhood, suppressing the widespread disease of my aging youth, existential crisis hitting me in every way.

you were burning away fast as i watched silently in my broken chair, your aged yellow keys crying, weeping with a nonexistent resentment towards me.

i silently sit in the empty lot of burnt youth, fleeting life spiraling with each drowning note.

i weep silently for my love.

i trace the floor silently.

i hum, trying to remember the feel of the keys under pads of touch.

i cry silently-

with the piano in the corner of my memories;

“i will get to meet you again. no matter what form, greet me happily then”