Music Speaks

Always

The girl stared at the paper in front of her, pen poised carefully above it. Her loopy scrawl already covered half the page, but it was scribbled out. She had tried writing to him a million times, but couldn't get it right. Of course, he would never read it, she would never allow it.

Her hand began to shake. This boy, he was different. He made her smile, laugh, even. But most importantly, he made her feel something in the dark void she had been stuck in for so long. There just weren't enough words in any language to do him justice.

She didn't know how much time had passed with her sitting there, whole body shaking. Her thoughts swam and danced around in her mind, wanting nothing but to be arranged on the new sheet of brilliant white landscape in front of her.

Finally, her pen moved. It did not move because of the shaking of her pale fingers, but because it had found words to create. These words flowed across the paper in a beautiful symphony, the cacophony organized into cursive emotions lined up on the paper like schoolchildren before recess. Her words came from her very soul and became an essence of her printed on that page.

The only sound was the scratching of her pen on the paper writing these words.

When the world gets too heavy, put it on my back.

~Parker~