I’m not the one to make my eyes melt into tears, while thinking about the past, but sometimes I sit back with a strong whiskey in my hand and remember those moments, that made my lips curl up in a smile. The drink burns my throat the same way my mind is burning ties to all the men I used to know. Or fuck.

Moonlight Sonata was always this one melody that made my eyes well up. In a happy way. Every time I listen to it, my whole body is flooded with an unexplainable inspiration, with an urge to write, create, do anything but ignore. Once in a while I’m reminded of this masterpiece (usually by accident), but it makes me smirk, remembering, how I learned to love it that much.

It was a long time ago. There was this boy, who fancied my green eyes, enough for him to stalk out little personal details about me just to please me. He was such a talented little fucker and his fingers created magic with the black and white keys of the piano. I was never the romantic type, but he managed to persuade me to stay on the phone with him for hours and hours one warm summer night, while I listened to him playing Moonlight Sonata on the loop.

It was magical. As were his fingers inside me the day after and his heart in my hand a while later. I was touched by his purity and devotion to please me, but he had to pay the price by watching his loving heart being shattered to pieces.

The Moonlight Sonata is one of the most beautiful memories I have.

– Chatty Owl –

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