Love Letter #11

This day burns
like a violin playing,
sorrowful, then sweet
with notes dangling
between lashes;
waves of sigh
where love resides;
fading stars, drawing nigh
to the night
in all it’s blissfulness;
dark and melancholy,
this heart, skipping beats,
these breaths
out of sync, like me
and this weeping
willow tree.

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