Magical duo

This is a tribute to him and her. The ones that keep fighting The Civil Wars that seem timeless but sadly will come to an end. They have put a spell on me with their melodic voices. The tension between their souls is almost as palpable as their chemistry. Why do we fight? How can we let go of something magical just because we can’t coexist? Must we let go of the love of our lives just because it’s complicated? I do not know what is happening in between their lives but I am a witness to their bittersweet musical interpretation.

They’re on the tip of my tongue and I feel no one can replace their braided souls. Yes, it makes sense that it would be complex for them to be able to compose such beauty in paper.

They decided to name themselves in honor of the wars we fight constantly. What I didn’t expect was for the war to become bigger than the magic. If I’m ever as lucky as to find that piece of the puzzle, I won’t be able to let go of it; it simply fits too perfectly. The Civil Wars were built on the tension and the passion. They could draw from the source of all the opposites we feel when in love and out of love. Falling for them was as inevitable as a dreamer following a dream. The flowers bloom and so does the girl with the red balloon.

The secret little stories uttered into the wind in the form of notes have had an impact on my life. They might love and hate each other but all I feel for them is admiration and gratitude for the inspiration they have brought out in me. The little black dress and the bow tie complement each other so well that it probably clouded their vision of what mattered most. I do not know them but know of what they have done and that’s enough to crave them long time.

Maybe from where they’re standing there’s only poison and not enough wine. From where they are, they have caught amnesia and have forgotten how much they can’t do without each other. But so long as the magic keeps flowing through, I’ll keep listening and hoping. The volcano has erupted but what has come of it is an endless supply of unforgettable whispers sung deep into my veins.

This is a tribute not just to the artists but also to the source that they were able to so clearly tap. Whatever happens; beauty, chaos and art happened because of something bigger than the people themselves. So long as the instruments of inspiration keep flowing through, this world will make sense; it always will.

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