The Violinist

Tears in the form of notes, blood in the form of music. Both Violin and Violinist; bleeding to life, pouring their souls in every majestic vibrato of strings.  Enchanted, overwhelmed by their own spell. Belonging, bonding, abandoning themselves to each other in a way that I have never seen before, and I will never forget. A way in which you could say that they loved each other passionately and ecstatically, beyond any possibility of human love.

I couldn’t stand that feeling. I don’t remember much of those minutes. I just know that when I recovered my senses I saw her, heard her, wrenching the most ardent note out of her Violin, almost violently. And then she fell to her knees, hugging her friend, her lover; shaking. All her goddess power gone, dissipating in the air. Then she looked at me, directly in the eyes and that killed me. And now I’m here and I’m sure I will never forget her eyes, her feeling. I am certain I will never forget the girl. She and her Violin will haunt my memories for the rest of my days on this earth.