Muse 98: First Chairs

found via brunopostigo

She was a violinist and he played the cello. By the order of the orchestra, musical hierarchy and general  consensus, he sat behind her where his sound could support hers. She was first chair of the violins and he was the first chair of the cellos. They were musically a match made in heaven and he wondered if she noticed that too, but all he saw was the back of her head. Her black hair ran straight down like a waterfall, and his eyes dropped whenever her movements hinted at turning around. When he played, he didn't read the sheets because the notes hung delicately in the air. He knew the rhythm by watching her dance, and the song by hearing her hum. Her voice was like gold, and his voice went by unnoticed, just as it always had with the audience. While she played the alone, he played in the background, and when she packed up her violin to go, he watched, hiding low in the shadows, too afraid to ask for a solo.

Muse 94: Show Me Your Scars

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It was at a M83 concert where we first met. I saw your arms and you saw mine for what they were because we knew that we were the same. For the first time, it wasn't the jarring words that were accusing or degrading but ones that expressed genuine interest as you smiled at raised your hands, showing me that just as well, you were in pain too. I looked around us and we all looked the same. Our arms had scars, lines of youth, where blood had run down. Once upon a time we hurt and then we healed. Improperly though. 

People look at me sometimes, on the street at my arms that scream out for attention because that's all I wanted. And now I found you in a crowd of everyone that was alike, with scars, with baggage and so very much alike. We all wore wristbands, wore band tees and Converse shoes, but somehow I got your attention anyway. I showed you my scars and you laughed, showing me yours.