I let her go twice, and both times it broke my heart.

And she is no more my familiar stranger. She is just a stranger. Now that I have lost her, I realize what a fool I was to let her go. It tears my heart that she's no more my destiny. I keep my eyes close, keeping the pain inside, strumming the familiar tune as every moment I spent with her reels in front of my eyes.

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met...

I'm sitting on a bench in Central Park, busking. I'm wearing a mask and goggles, dressed in an overcoat, to cover up my tats and any resemblance to my present reputation. Being a known face has its downside. You can't just sit in a park and busk on a Sunday morning. But right now, as I sit with my old guitar, my case sitting on the ground with a few bucks shining against the black velvet, I'm not August Z. I'm just Augustus.

Every once in a while, I try to reconnect with my old self, no matter how broken it is now. And every time with the same hope that I can move on from the girl named Violet, my first love. I don't know how to stop hurting. So, I let the pain flow out of my soul and into the guitar, voicing it through my words.

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you...

I look up and find myself staring at the young couple who have gathered with the crowd around me. The guy with blue eyes bends down and gives a butterfly kiss to the girl holding an ice cream in her hand. A smile tugs at my lips with the memories of her. I remember all the feathery touches we shared, the gentle kisses we stole, and the comfort of holding her close to my heart.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met...

We were bound to fall apart. I knew it the day she chose me, even though her heart wasn't there when she was with me. I saw it when Adrian walked away from her. She wasn't my Violet anymore. She had moved on. Even then I wished my love would be enough for both of us, but that's not how you fight for someone you love. When you love someone, you need them to be equally invested in the relationship.

So I had to let her go for good this time, with no promises this time, no hope that we'll meet again, a forever goodbye.

My fingers falter on the strings, a wave of heartache seeping into my ribcage and leaving me struggling to move into the next verse. Then I hear you, my familiar stranger. You emerge from the crowd with an acoustic guitar in your hand and a smile that whispers promises of a new connection. Your voice laced in honey, and wrapped in silk, continues my song as I meet your gaze, strumming the tune.

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met...

You don't stop among the crowd. Instead, head straight towards my bench and sit at the other end. As your maple-colored hair falls on your face, my fingers twitch to brush them aside.

I don't miss the way your pale ivory skin glows under the sun and the way you bite your lip with my attention. Your eyes never leave mine as you adjust the guitar on your lap, fingers on the fretboard, and then you join in my tune. Perfect sync. You don't know my name, I've never asked yours, but we meet every Sunday, same time, same place and a new song.

I laugh softly, shaking my head as you nudge your chin with that captivating smirk at the group of teenage girls huddled around our bench. And we begin the final verse of the song together, drawing the attention of anyone who seems to hear us.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met...

I sing it to the haunting and sad memories of lost love. When you sing it, you smother it with new possibilities and hope. Maybe one day, when my heart stops aching, I can write you a song, and we both can sing it as a duet.

Not today.

My heart is yet to heal, but I think it has almost found its cure.

Almost.

Take me back to the night we met...

***

Author's Note: Although it might have disappointed you from time to time, I hope somewhere in your heart this story may have found a place. Thank you for reading. It means the world to me. I would love to have your thoughts on the story.