Come Find Me

It had been years since the last time he saw her. Often he would lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how even the police failed to deliever any kind of worth while evidence. Tile by tile, he counted, until his eyes could no longer stay open. But sleep in itself scared him. Her pressence would become so surreal that he would wake trembling in a cold sweat. She haunted him, pressing her lips to his forehead, whispering "come find me". But before he could ask where, she would fade to black. Every night he had the same dream. Tonight, however, the dream was different.

Her once blue eyes had become tarnished as if they had lost some of their luster. She was changing, and he couldn't understand why. Trying to seek some sort of solace, he escaped to his porch that overlooked the city. Methodically he counted the passing cars, listening to Los Angeles soundtrack. In the distance he heard sirens and young teenage girls giggling about the boys they had met at the club. He tried to remember what it was like to laugh; to smile. He couldn't recall the last time he had actually experienced joy. His work was suffering but art and music became his muse. As he stared at the lights, he picked up the guitar.

It was a black Les Paul that belonged to Anna. Gold script covered a better half of it, displaying the words "non sapranno mai". "They will never know", she had said smiling, taking a long pull of a beer. Her memory once again, haunting him. Upon lighting a Marlboro, he began strumming the guitar. The song he played, was hers. It was a song that she had wrote one summer evening after they had made love. He will never forget the way she looked, illuminated by the candlelight; her guitar covering her breasts. Her voice and acoustics pristine...

{we.heart.it}