Muse

She was our wallflower. She was that girl with flair of one of a kind. Her smile and frowns never came about. Like porcelain, her face unreadable. I cant tell if she's sad or she's rejoicing. It happens. Being the one whom everyone assumes never gets tied down by the woes.

And here I hear her sing. So beautifully I want to touch her cheek and tell her it's okay. I hear her and see her side. We'll never understand nor comprehend what has made our journey so bitter yet worthwhile. I want to tell her how much her voice lulls me into such peace of mind and how her music haunts my mind in a manner I cannot fathom. I want her to know she's better than James Iha even.

But I never knew how to.