numb from the snow’s fall,
I stood reflecting
at the reflection of the moon
in my dry Sherry wine.
counter-clockwise making waves
at the reflection of the moon;
an infinite snow dons the backdrop.
What was her name that questioned
my heart’s motive for trust?
A quivering hand
presents me with a million moods
breathe….breathe….breathe…., I must,
in to the reflection of the moon.
In the numb I felt home.
At home I felt numb
to the desired fire
that now rents a once vacant room,
than my brain will allow.
Like a crime scene
on the day of our Independence,
that glass shattered,
cutting, falling, reflecting
a million moons that fell upon the snow.
Don’t say my name
for it is a worthless name
no one person should have to carry.
I, who will die alone inside,
fall to pieces daily,
wanting to know why you married.
It’s all coming back to me,
in the wine, in the snow,
in the last dissolving reflection of the moon!