Moments. Those brief, tiny moments of time that provided light.
Frozen in the dark abyss that is a memory.
Many moments. Many memories.
The bottle of wine is nearly empty.
Save for that last memory of a silhouette in the morning
there is nothing left.
lost within the soul
vomited into the atmosphere.
The days go by
Blended together like the last margarita of the night.
Striving for something more,
haunted by the dreams of a broken mirror of the past.
Look into the mirror.
A fractured reflection of what might have been.
whisked away in the night.
A brief glimpse into what…