Too much to let go,
prone to tears,
when music moves you
so far away,
as your senses wind
to unwind,
and the song drifts
note by note
into darkness.
The tenor bows,
then straightens up,
glancing at your face,
his momentous gaze
searching for signs,
if his flame
helped you to be more,
in this unobtrusive way.
His seduction
still steeping
inside
your trivial life,
you leap
to applaud
a dusky tale
written in invisible ink,
filtered through
vocal cords;
since,
sometimes
truth
can only be sung.
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