IntoxiKat

And his guitar did sing again, and his eyes saw me again, and I saw his. I saw grief, real pain, the kind that tears apart your insides until it feels like paper-thin skin can't possibly contain that much pressure. The kind of grief that leaves you feeling terrified and angry and nothing all at once. The type of grief that stopped my heart to look at. And I thought; finally. ____________________________________________________________________________________ He hasn't played his guitar since then - at least not like he used to. The reckless abandon of the musician with direction has wandered away from him in the night, he can no longer pluc