THE CHEATERS LOVERS. ❪ 𝘙𝘖𝘎𝘌𝘙 𝘛𝘈𝘠𝘓𝘖𝘙. ❫

TRACK 2

𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝟚

WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEPS/
THE BEATLES/ ALBUM: THE BEATLES / 1968

His guitar was sitting on
the corner, untouched.

His guitar was weeping,
begging for his master
to play with its strings again.

But his love was in the way.

He was weeping for his love
that had left unnoticed, fingers
hurting by the pain as he clenched
his fists tight.

His kids. His kids. He called out
for them, each of them happily
greeting him as if the woman
was still there.

He would smile back and his
guitar's strings were left alone
as his heart ached with pain and
there was no such thing as music
and the only thing he could do
was eat the ice cream his kids put
on a cone.

Music would be his remedy.
It was his medicine. But now
the love of his life was the
medicine he was craving.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps
was the song my dad didn't
like listening to after that unexpected
afternoon. It was my mother's
favorite as well.

My mom's name was Peace
Lowe, the daughter of a military
man and a teacher. She was the tenth
child out of the fourteen. She
thought of equality and love and she
was the woman that dreamt but
never did anything.

She met my father on one of
his concerts when he noticed her
standing there with her friends.

Everybody immediately disagreed
with her relationship with my father,
everybody warning him how
she was. They disagreed because
she was a "whore" that slept with
any man, especially singers, she
was too possessive, she was too
this and that. And, because she was
white. She was white and he was black.

But did my dad care? No. Why?
Because he believed his love for
her was gonna be infinite. He was Romeo,
except this time, he was the one that
died and Juliet lived a happy life. She
left him to die.

His guitar was played during
the night when he left to
perform. He was the man of jazz
and rock and soul. He was
a musician. A damn good one.

He would laugh and joke
with the crowd, but he wouldn't
stay too long and be the life of
the party anymore. He had
to work and he needed to go back
to his wife and kids.

He would wait in the rain,
still strumming away. He
didn't want a car, despite the
money that he had. He wanted
to experience how a person
without money experienced
because he knew that one day all
of his money could drift away and
become the past.

He would come home, change,
get money, go to work, wait
until morning, go to his
morning job, come home, serve
his kids food, clean the house, and
wonder where his wife was.

My father sacrificed his dream and
music so he could sing that music
to us.

My name was Queen in English and
my mom and her friends believed
that my name would be one of
the greatest names in the world.

They also believed that my
name would bring greatness
to someone. My name in English
would mean something greater in the
future. I would be remembered
as the woman who had the name Queen
and was the daughter of the infamous
Disco Jane.

Now my father told me.

Rei, he said. Queen. Your
name will bring someone
music. It would mean something
that everyone will remember.
It could bring a special meaning
to someone. Remember that.

I don't believe him to this day.