Child Built Walls

Soft Sound of Music

I'm sorry that my memories of our old house are filled with bittersweet music, soft in melody and sweet words singing a sad song.

I'm sorry that I had forgotten what it was like to lay under the large living room window waiting for you to come home. The soft rays of the sun warmed my body better than any blanket I could've pulled from my bed. The silence a comforting presence rather than blaring-ly loud, the room around me I think would've felt soft at the time. Filled with sweet memories of soft children's laughter, your soft hands pushing back my hair to see the smile on my face.

I do think you try – try to keep that memory, or maybe you have forgotten to. Maybe you will never remember, and maybe it was something that was never really a memory in the first place. But I like to think that somewhere, you too are filled with soft bittersweet music, the melody a taunting memory trying to drag you back to soft summer days.

You are soft and sweet, a good memory clouded in sad lyrics that make you appear cold. I wish I knew more of your summer warmth and less of the lyrics that cloud your image, acting as a barrier to keep away those who want to hurt you. But even so, you are still my favorite song even if your lyrics brought me pain at some point.

I think that's what loving someone means, hurting and loving them regardless because we are always going to hurt someone at some point. We would rather it be ourselves at the time looking back at it. But to love someone is to hurt them, and then soothe over the pain with softly whispered apologies. Soft morning whispers that only the walls will seem to remember when the time comes.

My only request would be, that I wish your song was less filled with razors and hurtful memories. That even past the hurt I could still hear the playful lint of good times. But I think your bittersweet song has made you more bitter than sweet. More sour than soft, but even if you never had to ask, and never do. I still forgive you. Each time, I will bow my head and swallow my pride to forgive your hurtful song. Because I know at some point it was soft and sweet like mine. But someone had come along and messed up the lyrics of your song and you no longer remembered what the melody used to be.

I hope that one day, you find someone or something that will fix your bitter song and show you it can be sweet again. But maybe that's something you have to do yourself, and it's taking you more time than not to remember the lyrics you once adored.

I hope you remember sweet summer days, soft and light. I hope you one day remember the good times that lift you and bring a soft smile to your face. And I hope you know, no matter how bitter your song makes me when I listen, you are still my favorite song, and I will always listen and try to find the soft melody that you had forgotten along the way. I will continue to make excuses for you through the tears, gently brush my cheeks and keep the saltiness away from you, because you don't need any more of it. And I will sit and listen once it is all over and try to find the part of you that you lost.

Because it seemed no one else took the time to remember that you too were soft once. That you just needed someone to remind you. Needed someone to play a soft tone next to yours so that you could heal too. But I don't think that makes you right, and I think I would've liked softly whispered apologies and gentle brushes that reminded me that I was good. But still, I am strong so I can do without, and I will simply take in place a memory of those apologies and act as if they are new.

You are my favorite song, so I will wait for you even if you do not wait for me.