The Aria is Bleeding

The Aria is Bleeding 

The aria is bleeding to the tune
of my almost justified minuet
composed of lies and compromise that soon
held captive thoughts struggling on their last fret. 
A cappella, I stood speaking in wild
cadenza, trying ceaselessly to mend
as my chanting torments began to hiss
erratic words to which you did contend,
had me wanting only a sterner sea
on to which these seemingly paltry gaffes
were excused faults in loves tonality,
then the cadence slips between us at last.
There are moments we sink before we learn,
But to truthful harmonies we return.