((((((A Ghost in the Room)))))

‎((((((A Ghost in the Room)))))

From every angle he felt the depth of singular emotions, first came the notes of her

voice, frozen in slow motion in front of his eyes, casting little spectrum of color from the

closet light that had been turned on the day before.

He began to reach for the sounds but failed to realize his mind playing tricks on him.

To him there was no ocean he could not cross.

No mountain he would not be able to crush.

Tornadoes had no budge to his thick framed mind.

He was a champion that night, playing with her voice like a violent orchestra that would

shake the feet of any classical master , palm muting and finger picking away at her

beautiful figure, her mind was his music sheet and his memory of her was his

instrument.

In great timing he would create simplistic tone and euphonious image that rendered

canvas and oil paintings to create genius image.

To him, there was nothing more in this world but the smell of her skin.

No anchor that would be able to keep him still.

Black holes had no pull to his thick framed mind.

He was an artist that day, with premonition to even make a broken heart into a

showcase, illustrating the common ideas of four chambers, complimenting the four loves

of this world, infusing the brush strokes with emotional value, remembering the color of

love and laughter, closing his eyes as her musical notes bathed him in salvation.

She was louder than thunder, She was louder than his own thoughts.

He lives in New York.

She hasn’t seen him for 8 years.

He waits patiently with the closet light on.

Written By Adam Guerra- Posted 05/12/12