rhapsodic,
my Love, filled with sympathy—waltzing
melody
by love. rapture might win me. seasons
have
coalesced, thus, skies are unpaved happiness.
such
irrational passion has seized senses—I’m
Don
Quixote, my Love. moreover, I’m Cupid—struck by
an
arrow by a countess. the sun is ablaze,
manipulating
orchestra such drums. I’m possessed, my
Love,
fixated on waves or frequencies. our chorus has
colored
our heavens. the gods are eager for us. forever
in
bloom, our love is a rainbow, ever alive so vibrant.
we
embody eternity, by art of painless love, streaming
through
cosmos. still, our mirror possesses doubt.
such
sugary insecurity.
such
rhapsody.
