Breathing in Strings

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I listened to her play the cello,
and she breathed sharply with each pause,
even if only half a second.
Her breathing was a part of the beauty.
Like it was written into the original score..
penciled in, at precise moments. Not only
so she would not forget to breathe,
but so that the deep dour sound would be
made just that more exquisite.
She became a part of the cello’s curved
majesty, and her heart couldn’t help but
get lost and entwined in the strings,
causing a physical masterpiece. Perfection.
The human body molded into notes,
that carried with them a suggestion of
seduction. Legs wide, neck stretched sideways,
and fingertips in perfect control.
Her hair fell and swayed with each rise and each
swell in emotion. Beautiful. Absolute
commitment, and in that, absolute pleasure in
truth. Both for her, and for the
instrument she mastered.

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