Writing of love as music

the sound and the timing
of you
your breath

overlaps with mine
in a purple haze
of dim city lights
staccato-ish
hitting and leaving me in
allegretto

the high notes
are the rooftops
which see the curves of
the planet
that you and I
inhabit
and then don't
meandering through our
existences
flitting between spaces
and infinities

while the absences
seem like stretched fermatas
ensuring my heart is bound
leaping up at so much as
half a ray of sunshine

I write of love
as if it's music
between stave lines
when really it's just me
bleeding
seeping
colouring
marking
weeping