Passing By ┆❥ NaeGiri

twenty three.

He takes his guitar out of its case.

And starts to walk.

-the same path that the last twenty one years-

He walks.
He walks.
And he walks.

When he reaches his destination,
he spreads a blanket on the ground
and sits on top as he plays his melodies.

People pass by
and don't see him.

They don't hear his music.

They can't feel it.

They don't bother looking at him,
less giving him a single coin.

He wants to scream
at them that Kyoko
is so thin he can
feel her ribs already.

That winter is coming
and the walls of his
house have holes in it.

He wants to cry
because Thunder
doesn't stop
meowing as he
demands food.

He wants to beg
them to look at
his really dark
eye bags and
listen to the way
his stomach
is raging.

But nobody does that.

And he thinks about those lavender
eyes that his Princess possesses.

He brings a hand to his collarbones
and feels them more than he should.

He has to do something.

But not because of him.

But because of the girl
that's probably caressing
in that same moment
the petals of a decaying
flower, with the now
really small black cat
sitting on her lap.

And thus, as a last option,
Makoto sells his guitar.