The man at the piano outside playing a song so cliche with so much feeling, his emotion making the common notes sparkle and glitter. You were standing outside an opera house designed by Mucha, whose young art rejoiced in desire and beauty. Later, he painted a heroine who held in her hands two rings, a crown of thorns, and one of stars: love’s pain and love’s glory. Don’t think one lives without the other.
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I finally listened to a song you used to post, to tell me to go away. It's both a rejection and maybe some attempt at a tender send-off...
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