I am a dying mirror,
glass skin
melting
and caving in
following the flow
the goes too slow,
distorting
reflections
that I used to know,
extracting
exacting
moments
that stress,
impress
or depress me
greatly.

I see and write
the night’s lite
beauty,
let it all
fall out of me
in literary wonder,

and hope before
I fall to pieces,
shattering permanently,
you get to see
what I believe
is the wonder
of all reality.