Feb 1, 2015
ivories.
[ tonight, he is winter — a bleak soul incised with the nostalgia of gone summers to keep him safe & warm. he remembers a particular morning when he, a mere boy then, rose with the bright sun and his childish enthusiasm (a little trait which he still possesses even at the age of twenty) dragged him out of bed then straight to the living room where the piano awaited him. he smiles. this is what it feels like, he's sure. there's this feeling that stretches over his chest and he thinks it's called happiness ; to see someone play the instrument so beautifully... how he longs to run his fingers across those ivories again. but for now, he'll just watch the man in silence — eyes aglow with a w e. ] " ... "