my hands dance on the piano

My hands dance on the piano, i’m not even sure if i’m playing the right keys or if  this noise i make is what they call music. i close my eyes, my hands dancing on the piano. a girl of four is clutching the seems of her mother’s dress. Throwing wary looks all around her, afraid as she could ever be for the world is too big and cruel. The seat inside the theater is filled with people who are sleep walking, and somehow their feet lead them here. My hands dance on the piano. She is waiting by the gate of her grandmother’s house, the sun is already setting and the sky a battlefield, the night conquering the day, blood of orange and red spilled the heavens and she is waiting. A look of disappointment on her face she is careful not to entertain the hurt or let it live inside her. The audience are silent, they are boring. and i am a barely a show to their dull lives, music to keep them in their trance. My hands dance on the piano. A girl of seventeen stare back at her in the mirror, she is nothing extraordinary, the girl noted. all the imperfections is what she can only see. I open my eyes and stare at the sheet of music, not because i don’t know what comes next, but because there is nothing else to look at. The faces watching me, comfortable in their seats, they couldn’t be the judge of me. who are they that they are capable of telling people what is wrong and right, they are barely alive and half-asleep. My hands dance on the piano. She is staring at the ceiling, all her books and clothes neatly packed inside boxes. she clutch a world full of dreams and words that never escape her lips tightly on her chest. i think now i know the music, i am aware of what i’m playing. i can see the notes my fingers thread coming alive and the people watching barely stir. my world is making sense and the people barely stir. they yawn and gawk but understand nothing. My hands dance on the piano. So the girl with a jar full of dreams, went away, far from the hurt and child that was always scared. And every night she think of that person that was her. I search the crowd for a familiar face. My hands dance on the piano. She search the crowd for a familiar face, her hands dance on the piano.

 

-logan

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