I listen for your symphony
In the wake of your departure

Sticcato

Long nimble fingers
Draw the bow across the strings,
While an arrow,
Doused in poison,
Brewed from the moisture along your lips,
Has been loosed
Whistling through empty air
It is true
I own no armor capable of deflection

Impaled

So I listen for your symphony
As I release my grip upon the world