Broken String

            

            A perfect crescent moon hung on the sky. The sight of it caught my breath with pleasure. How could something as beautiful as the moon could hang in there alone, without even thinking of falling down onto the earth and be with us? I wonder. I wonder what I look like through the moon’s point of view. Maybe I am just a tiny dot, even tinier than a speck of dust; useless and worthless. Or maybe I am nothing at all; existing yet cannot be seen. Breathing, but just as good as a cold and stinky corpse.

            How could a night so beautiful yet so lonely at the same time?

            We were seated at a bench in the park, under a tree which casted us a shadow, hiding and separating us from the world. Keeping us in a place where no one was allowed but only the two of us.

            I took a deep breath and held it. I counted five seconds before I released it, same time a string of his guitar broke. His playing stop. He was clearly agitated with this. Maybe because he didn’t have any more reason to ignore me, and the question that I have asked him which I could still feel hovering in the open air around us.

“Do you still love me?” I have asked him. But he refused to answer.

            He decided to continue strumming the string. He just strummed without a melody. Of course, you can’t play on broken strings.

            “I love you.” I said, my voice almost a whisper. But I knew he heard me because I felt him stiffened beside me. I waited for him to say anything. Just anything. But he never did.

            “I know that’s not a question but I still need an answer. I need to know the answer, babe.” I said, trying so hard not to cry. But the sobs that I have locked up in my throat were starting to escape now. Tears were now streaming down through my face.

            “Why?” he finally said. I didn’t know exactly what he meant.

Why have we come to this point? Why does it have to happen to us? Why do we have to love each other? Why can’t we be together? Why?

I looked at him, his eyes reflected with mine, both were shedding tears. We were silently screaming. We were drowning. I wiped the tears out from his eyes and cheeks. I tried to curve my lips into a smile between tears, “So that I’ll know if I should still hold on or just let go of you.”

He fiddled with the broken string of his guitar, trying to fix it. But he couldn’t. After how many tries, he gave up. He put the guitar on the space beside him before he looked at me. He looked at me intently, and I saw different emotions played on his face as I looked back to him.

            He looked at me more, and I wondered what he was thinking. He slowly opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. And the words, his answer, came out from his mouth. I just stared at him, feeling and taking in his every word that came rushing out like a winter wind that was crying.

Photo taken from here.

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