Reserve
What did you think
Comments
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You have reserved so long
You have reserved so long that the pale thin line has become a memory that digs deeply into the nightmare of an etching. It wants to become a melody, yet has lost her song. In the moonlight where my mirror can not be seen, I am quiet and alone. In the light I cry blood red tears...the sorrow of a reflected sun so soon has become a wrinkled, fat toad. I can not change what is. I can only give what is left and pray that it is enough.

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?
Is this postmodern, or am I missing something?
