her face,
expressive and bright
under
the lights
of Lincoln center. her voice
a melodic shout
and scream
as she sings in
Italian
the death of love.
she falls into whisper,
her arms
reach out,
her lips bemoan
the loss
she must endure. how
beautiful
she is in front
of strings, and flutes,
drums.
engulfed in betrayal.
you believe her,
and want
what she had so many
songs ago.
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