She stepped out of the bedroom into the veranda, thinking a breath of fresh air would help her clear her mind. How long had it been, two years, maybe three? She couldn’t remember anymore; She had stopped counting the days. She had lost track of time. To her, her own happiness was the only thing that could keep her happy.
The moon had risen to the highest point in the nightsky, cradling the sea below in its arms, casting a blanket of liquid, silver glow. The street below was deserted, but in the distance she could hear the soft strum of a lonely guitar playing, and my voice slowly drifted across the plaza:
“If I lived a thousand years
I would never meet you again.
For a beautiful woman, like you,
Comes but once in a lifetime.
And sometimes when I miss you,
I think of the days
You held me in your arms,
Whispered “I love you,”
And I kissed the fingertips of your hand.
Then rain falls down from heaven,
From angels weeping over you and me.”
That was the song i had written for her, but the song no longer belonged to her. She had sold the rights to it for her own happiness only.
The moon had risen to the highest point in the nightsky, cradling the sea below in its arms, casting a blanket of liquid, silver glow. The street below was deserted, but in the distance she could hear the soft strum of a lonely guitar playing, and my voice slowly drifted across the plaza:
“If I lived a thousand years
I would never meet you again.
For a beautiful woman, like you,
Comes but once in a lifetime.
And sometimes when I miss you,
I think of the days
You held me in your arms,
Whispered “I love you,”
And I kissed the fingertips of your hand.
Then rain falls down from heaven,
From angels weeping over you and me.”
That was the song i had written for her, but the song no longer belonged to her. She had sold the rights to it for her own happiness only.
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