The Pianist

venti.

ragtime has come to an end
the last note has faded
chance to begin again

pick up the pieces
and move along
it's the composition of a new song

no choice but to
come to terms
to life without her
how he would survive
he was not sure

she was a happy memory
after all
not a burden

that's how love should be
he thinks
the deepest scars show your strength

he will miss her
the warmth of the other pillow
but it's been cold for years

he will miss her
and her cute little crooked smile
one he can only see in photographs

he will miss her
the thundering sonata she perfected
no one else he would rather hear play

he will miss her
because she was his first
and he loved her

he will regret her
because he ruined her
and he hated himself

he will love her
because she loved him
more than chasing perfection

she wasn't the one
that he knew
but for not being soul mates
together they were a good two

they crashed into young love
and broke themselves
into a thousand pieces

he reassembled
cracked but standing
she was beyond repair
shattered like glass

it was lightening
quick and dangerous
never striking the same place twice

she was ignited
and smouldering
with him as her witness

in one night
their love had burned
snuffing out the flickering glim
and darkness reigned
where light had prevailed before

they loved
they regretted
they missed

they were
the footballer
and
the pianist

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this was a nice little distraction to write over the past two weeks ^_^

hope that you all liked it and thank you very much for reading my blind (and probably painful) adventure into poetry!

xx alina