Disclaimer: mine..all mine.*evil cackle*
The faded light in the bar accentuated the rings of cigarette smoke and
dark, graceless shadows as I closed my eyes and brought the saxophone to my
mouth. I didn't see the masses of people-watching with ill-disguised
disinterest. To them, I was just another sax player trying to find his soul
at night in a crowded room of lost causes. Their precious cigarettes and
shots of liquor a momentary respite from the cold outside this haven. The
liquor and nicotine they needed and women they couldn't always count on
(oh, those those women, with their fox trots and cheap smiles), but the sax
player was always there, and therefore taken for granted. I waited for that
invisible cue, and the melody began, tentative and searching-looking for a
familiar head of midnight hair that came here every night.
Then there you were.
I saw you across the bar, across the mass of sweating, groaning bodies. You
walked in with that oh-so-jaded twist in your hips; sitting in the same
barstool you always sat in, the same bar.the same stool.the same little
black dress and stilettos. The very same heartbreaking face. You knew I was
there-felt me as if I was touching you. And in a way, I was. The saxophone
melted and molded under my fingers into the sweet music, like I had always
imagined we would make when the days were gray. Of course, though, you
never looked my way. You knew I was there, and that was enough. There was
no need for visual verification. The music spoke for us. Its strains the
same, they were always the same. The sadness of the incomplete, looking for
its better half, was always there. And I think you knew it, too.
This constant search and melancholy that was always the stuff of life, but
should never have been put into music.
It reached out to you, knowing you were the answer to a question I never
asked. Nevertheless, it floated in the air between us. Won't you look my
way? Looking up from your glass of tequila (the same drink as
always.something you took for granted would always be there, just like me)
your eyes and mine met in a kaleidoscopic dream. It was maybe a split
second, an exchange of notes in a smooth legato, and your gaze lowered
again. The saxophone raised invisible arms around you, coaxing you to steal
a look back-to let me see your gray eyes again. Like so many clouds on a
stormy day. And sometimes, I swore, I could see heaven in there. Heaven in
a writhing, billowing mass of gray. In the dim lighting, they were almost
black. And then I could see the graves of so many broken dreams-trying to
drown them all in liquor. Heaven was slowly slipping away and the angels
were falling out of your eyes. I so longed to walk over there and let you
curl up into me-keep you from your own private hell.
Such sentimental fools music makes of us all.
I could remember days, such lazy days, when the world was young and we, the
conquerors. You had always looked so charming and guileless in that yellow
sundress you used to own. That, of course, you had put away in your little
box along with all the other toys in the attic-left to rust. You may have
changed externally-may have dyed your hair a different shade, tanned a
little here, grown a little there-but I still saw you and me in our field
of forgotten memories. And you always wore that yellow sundress. Of course,
I knew the fairy-tale was too good to really last.
But the show must go on. So the music spoke for me instead, like it had,
too many times to count. Trying to remind you, bring you back somehow. I
had the feeling that you were too far gone-too lost in the world to find
your way back. And maybe we would not make such sweet music together after
all. The song ended on a suspended note-touching on your skin like a lover.
My lips lingered on the cool metal of the saxophone-golden-bronze like your
skin in the sun, yet as cold as you always pretended to be.and I walked
I saw you hover on the edge of that barstool. Whether to follow me, or not?
That was always the question, every night the same. And always, you waited
a second too late-a breath's delay, and I was gone. And you would be left
to ponder on could have beens-a few more angels falling from your eyes. But
you always steeled yourself up for tomorrow.I would always be there
tomorrow night. Just like I had every night, and every night to come-
waiting for you on the incomplete notes of my saxophone.
A/N: yea..based on this saxaphone bluesy solo I heard once..just can't
remember the title.or its by.*ponders*.I'm gonna find it and let y'alls
know as soon as I do.^__^ love that song TO DEATH~!