Married to the musicMarried to the music by IfeellikeaKilljoy
Imagine being married to Billie Joe Armstrong...
It's a late night from work, the roads are empty and the sky is dark; there are no stars tonight. All you want to do is curl up in bed and gently fall asleep.
You pull up in the driveway, turn off the ignition, get out the car and enter the house. You imagine blissful silence; the kids are asleep, no whirring of some unused laptop, no television screaming some depressing news story. Silence. But instead are greeted by the soft chords of a guitar, only faintly, and melodic singing.
You walk down the hall into the dimly lit living room; the lights are off and a simple desk lamp is illuminating the room, you see him. Legs crossed in the middle of the fabric sofa with Blue in hand. He's oblivious and continues singing and playing to his audience of no one. You lean your head on the doorframe and smile, admiring how lost he was in the melody. After a while, you drift to the armchair next to the sofa and let your head lull on the chair'