The soul that could sing a million words and never be able to say half of what he felt inside. (Frerard)
“What’s the time?”
The words she said first. Under all the exaggerated club lights I could see her perfectly, the same “/I know she’s the one”/ feeling coming over me. How wrong was I?
“Don’t let him go.”
The words she said last. Even through the blood and scratches marring her face, she still looked as beautiful as the day I met her. Her smile, her last smile, was the thing that tore me up the most. She still believed. She wouldn’t give up. I didn’t understand at first, but she shook her head and a minute later, she was gone.
“You miss her.”
The words he said first. He called me after I got home. As soon as my keys hit the counter he called; he knew. He let me cry over the phone to him. I asked him to come over, he did. He rocked me to sleep. I didn’t care that I was acting like a baby; my wife had just died.
“Let her go.”
The words that saved me. And I did. I let her go. Not out of my heart, just enough to let it stop nagging my conscious. Her voice still rang in my head, but it didn’t make me break down like it did.
“I missed you.”
The words she never said. But he did. He hugged me tight and smiled after I came back for tours, or after I was sick. He was there for me. She was too, but in a different way.
“I don’t know…”
The words they both said. She wasn’t sure first, he wasn’t sure next. I was. I was sure both times. I was sure he could be just as much as she was to me. I let her go, didn’t I?
“I love you.”
The words she never meant. The words he meant with his soul. The same soul that had the courage to go up in front of thousands of people that would either make you, or break you. The soul that could sing a million words and never be able to say half of what he felt inside. The one that had been through so much no one could completely heal it, but it could heal many more than would dare to try.