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{lovemusic} cassandra schoon There was music when we crashed together. It was the music of two people forgetting everything, of losing their minds, of acting against all good and proper advice. It was the cacophony of loneliness and need and being human. It was beautiful, like two orchestras playing different songs at once. At first I wasn’t sure at all. I felt a bit used up the morning after our first collision. I didn’t know if I wanted more or if I should run away, call it a mistake, call it a misstep, never call again. I was so afraid it would be like the last lover, with whom every note rang slightly off-key. Strange how it really became the opposite. As I walked home in the snow, I could hear the faint tones of the music we created together. Our own peculiar symphony. Soon I began to crave it all again, the grasping, gasping need of what we had. I loved how you needed me and I needed how you loved me. Your mouth everywhere, your only wish to see me arch my back in ecstasy while our crazy, raucous music played on. Composing new bridges, new choruses, as we moved closer together. The music would play on in my head days afterward, as we both plotted the next move. The song of all dances and pitches and tempos. The concerto of hands, of heartbeats, of muscle and skin. It was infectious and haunted my every solitary moment. And as we practiced together, the sound of us became resplendent. Completely unique yet rhythmic and melodic. Like neither of us had ever heard before. And here we are, apart again. In the end, it all began to scare you and you needed to walk away. You thought you could not make me as happy as I needed to be. But you didn’t ever really understand. You made me happier than I’d ever thought I could be. You loved me and I fell for you- so deeply and yet so quickly that I hardly knew what was happening at all. Though I was terrified that I would get hurt again, I greedily consumed each moment, each word, each kiss, each touch. Because I knew that they were notes on the wind, never to be heard by anyone in the same way again. Our music was ours, and we’d never make it or hear it with anyone else, never. And while I know that someday, I will again create something with someone new, I also know that it will never embody the same resonance as it did with you. Minor keys will replace majors, sharps will sing out in place of flats. It may be beautiful, but it will not be ours. It never can be. And I also know that someday, when I am very old, and I have lived out my life and the love affairs of my youth are faint memories, the ghostly echo will sometimes come to me, and I will hum quietly to the tune of our unforgettable melody. The one that was only ours, and will remain so as long as we can remember the first time we crashed, and the sound it made. |
