Passionate fear

Passionate fear

He came from round the blind corner.

Our eyes met briefly before going back to

the phone. His presence lingered beyond

the sockets. He knows.

The next day he was there with his surreptitious

smile which I knew to grow accustomed to. Shyly

shifted to check the time. He wore blue

without fail, conquering my heart, at Eight O' Six

sharp everyday. Not a peep from me. That is

not our language.

He started bringing me places in my mind I

never knew existed. So fascinated in his glory,

I breathe at his mercy and cry at his pleasure. I

take him everywhere, like pocket providence, and

he whispers bittersweet nothings in my ear.

By the devilry he possesses, the hex, like musty

roses, course through my veins, tearing me

from my bloodline, releasing. those. satisfying.

Endorphin.

He owns my soul; at every any hour of the year.

He slumbers mostly and let the electronics entertain

the little shell as he lay; gentle, sovereign and familiar.

He’ll tug on my heartstrings when it's time to feed.

Then, he consumes me whole.

Nightmare of a Daughter

So tomorrow is the 49th day of my grandfather's death. And idk how I feel about that. My aunt's casually brought him up in a conversation today and I swore I was still choked up. I think words can't really express how I feel now so I've penned my feelings down in music instead.

This is my first composition for piano and I'm pretty wretched with emotions now that I can't really tell how good or bad it is (but I have an inclination that it will lean towards the negative side seeing how inexperienced I am).

Despite so, I do feel that this piece does reflect my inner struggles especially when I first heard of the news. The piece is titled "Nightmare of a Daughter" because I still can't entirely grasp the concept that this is life; or rather, the lack of it. The music starts off with a foreboding feel of the night which leads straight into a chase like tempo, mirroring my anxiousness and fear when my mum called me to the A&E. The abrupt break when I fell eyes on his shriveled self with more tubes in him than breath. Then, of course, the fall; both his and mine - fast, plateau, crash. Heartbeat on the monitor shows hope. Wonderful hope. I speak to him and through our exchange, we dance. But he doesn't wake up. Our conversation, as per in my head, gets heated. Horrible hope. Horribly misleading hope. He moves on (to the other side) and I'm screaming now. The doctor calls his time of death.