lessons

lessons
Originally uploaded by Shine5.

I actually have that yelllow Guitar for Dummies book, but no Guitar per se. However, you ask anybody, i am an air guitar prodigy. There is always something sadly poetic about finding musical instruments in the garbage. Someone let go after after a last strum and that was it. She probably leaned in a corner, neglected and wistful, dreaming romantic thoughts of a gentle, caring music lover that would caress her and stroke her and make her...vibrate. A few came and went, lifting her up to see if she reminded them of their first loves, seeking in her a passion they had lost, or had never had. Then, they put her down a little tooo quickly, banging and bruising her in ways she had become well used to, afraid that she might actually speak, knowing that she only spoke the truth. Then a day came when he no longer thought of her as anything different from the furniture, another day, another day when he came home drunken and touched her in a way he never had before. He wanted to her to lie to him, to tell him that things were the same as they had always been, that everything was forever, and though she said nothing, he could tell from her silence, because he knew that she would not lie. He took her numb pain for cold silence and knew a way that he could make her speak to him-oh yeah, she was going to speak, to sing, to scream...And when he had done what he had promised on their first day together that he would never do, he fell asleep just a few feet from her broken frame, crying for the lost he, he would never find without her. In the morning, his guilt would not allow him to see her as anything more than an a piece of furniture, a broken piece of furniture, so he threw her out, and along with her all the remains of the he that he would never be.