Our Black and White Love

You're like an old lover to me, someone who was there for all my goods and bads, all my highs and lows. The last time I saw you, I really thought it was goodbye. I've given my all to you, my time, my sweat and tears, my heart...but at the end of the day, you reject all of it. You reject all of my time, all of my sweat and tears, all of my heart, and you spit it back into my face. That was when I decided it was over. You and I were a lost cause, there was no chemistry, no spark, no moment where I thought "oh, I've finally found it!".

I walked into my room with shaky hands, stopping at the doorway to look at you for one last time. You were as beautiful as ever, with your rich mahogany wood, you bright black and white eyes, your golden feet. I could almost hear you singing again, just like whenever we were together.

But it's different now.

You no longer sing for me, I no longer play for you. Your black and white keys don't see me anymore, your once proud mahogany wood has faded, you golden feet don't dance the way they used to.

Chopin, Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, it doesn't sound the same way with you anymore. I walked over to you, and you watched me. But you didn't object, you didn't tell me to stop, you didn't ask me questions. You were tired too. I guess you were ready to say goodbye too. So I lay your head down to rest, I traced your eyes one last time. They were as cold and hard as ever, as soft and warms as ever. I pulled the wooden cover over, over your eyes, over you, over me, over us.

It's been half a year since I saw you. I've been living in a world of silence since our departure, there was no music. At first, it was like hell, being without you my old friend. But slowly, slowly, I numbed it. I learned to focus on other things, learned to use my hands for cooking or to write or to draw or to paint. To be honest, I thought I was doing well, I thought I finally moved on. The days were empty, boring, grey, dare I say, the days were even lonely. But there were without you, and I thought that was enough.

It was a rainy day, a Sunday when I saw you again. I was at a café, working on an article for my school. It was dull work for me, but it was work that required thinking, it was my shield from thinking of you again. I don't know how much time passed at the café before I heard your voice. But I knew very damn well, the second I heard it, it was yours. I froze. My mind froze. I began to turn around, even though I was shouting "DON'T. DON"T LOOK. JUST LEAVE." Oh, I tried I really did. But who could resist you? I turned towards you and...

I fell in love all over again.

I fell in love all over again.

Your wood was no longer mahogany, it was black. A smooth, unforgiving black. Your feet were no longer golden, they were silver. But one thing hasn't changed. Your eyes. The same beautiful black petals, scattered across the same cold white snow. And you're voice. I don't know how, but it came back. You came back to me. The song you were singing, I remember it. I remember what we were. What happiness was. What music was. What love felt like. What love sounded like. What love looked like.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Are you feeling okay?"

Startled, I felt a tear on my cheek. I was crying. I was crying because I realized that I was so madly in love with you and there was no way I could leave you. There was no way in hell I would leave you.

"I've never been better" I replied, my eyes never leaving the nostalgic wood.

I started to walk over to you, over the tiled café floor. Over the days, the week, the months I suffered without you. Patiently, you watched me. You didn't say anything like last time. But you didn't need to. You never needed to. It was me who was the quiet one. I grew scared of how far we came and scared I would mess it up. So I left, quietly and cowardly.

"Can I play with you?" I asked the little girl who sat on the bench. She nodded.

And together we played "Happy Birthday" on a rainy Sunday afternoon. The rain outside sang with us, gently tapping on the windows. Everyone at the café stopped to listen. The entire world stopped to look. To look at us. It was childish and silly. But that's what I missed. I laughed.

"Wait, isn't that the famous musician? What was her name.."?

"Didn't she win the overseas competition 3 years in a row?"

"No way, I thought she retired?"

It was a magnificent duet.

The old familiarity and comfortableness embraced me again. The hours we spent in the practice room, singing and talking. No one else in the world knew me like you did. Not the stupid pans and cookbooks, not the dry and scratchy canvases, not the dull laptop screen. Not the people looking at us at the café, not the little girl next to me. Not the rain outside. Only you. And oh, how I missed your voice. Strong and powerful, but also small and subtle.

You were signing with me again, you were looking at me again, you were dancing with me again. It felt like highschool love, like first love all over.

I was in love again.

I was in love again.

I am in love with you, my beautiful piano, and I always was in love with you.

This time, I won't run away.

Thank you for waiting for me.