A song that reminds me of a certain event: When You Were Mine
About it: So...I had so much trouble finding a song that reminded me of an event. My mind literally went blank and I just sat in front of my laptop looking through my iTunes library. Then I realised, I had gone to see Taylor Henderson once, with lizzeh and it was so cool. We were about a ten metre distance from him and there weren't even a hundred people, I think. It was so awesome and it was to promote his new single, When You Were Mine. Perks of living in oz yo ;). Anyways, enjoy!
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Dear Charlie,
I've got a hand-me-down heart filled with second-hand love / it's been weighing me down so I'm selling it off / at a discounted rate that nobody points to pay
Do you remember the first time we met?
At that book store around the corner. The one with the considerably vintage copies of Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre. The one you visited every Tuesday, after school. The one where you bought your first copy of that Shakespeare play. Romeo and Juliet, it was.
I remember it.
For almost a year, you came on schedule, without fail. You came and read, every Tuesday, and even though it was frowned upon by the owner of the store, I didn't say anything and nobody ever noticed you, reading in the corner.
Except me.
Then one day you knocked over a stack of children's fairytales and I was stacking the new copies of John Green on the shelf next to you. You blushed and stammered your way through the process of rearranging the books back the way they were. "Sorry," was the first proper word that you spoke to me as you stood up and straightened your floral blouse. I smiled back at you and said that it was fine.
That was the end of our first conversation.
The next Tuesday was the one where you sat in the corner near the counter, with all the old novels and plays, reading through the story of James and the Giant Peach, by Roald Dahl. You had said a small 'hi' to me when you first came in, nervously fingering a lock of strawberry blonde hair. Then you went and sat for about a whole hour, reading, and I didn't say anything, even though I ought to have. I liked watching you read. The way you bit your lip at unpleasant parts, the way you frowned at the characters' decisions, the way you tried to contain your laughter by covering your mouth, shaking silently.
The third time we talked was when you bought Romeo and Juliet. You had walked through the door with a sort of determination in your eyes, a lot later than you usually came. Past the Young Adult novels you went, the picture books, the autobiographies. You reached the vintage plays and classics, searching through the out-of-place mahogany shelves, fingers gently caressing the fragile spines of the novels. Your hand stopped on the second shelf, at the Shakespeare plays and sonnets and you carefully pulled out a hard covered copy of Romeo and Juliet. Holding it in your hands as if it were the world, you walked over to the counter, where I was standing, placed the book in front of me and took two hundred-dollar notes out of your small, brown wallet, slowly pushing it my way. I looked at you, the way your small jaw was set, eyes on the book and nothing else, the way you avoided my gaze, your hands were slightly clenched at your sides.
I took the book and scanned it.
$199.99 it read.
I took the money, hesitating. Then I made the decision that led to this, to us.
I gave you back one hundred dollars.
You looked at me with wide and confused eyes, shaking your head and pushing the money back to me. I smiled at you.
