In the mirror, I am a woman under glass like week-old flowers when we don't change the water when we leave the roses roadside as lifeless as the idea of love as the idea I loved the water is dank and love smells bad In the mirror, I am a woman under glass falling petals love gone to seed nothing grows in bad water love gone to need so faithful is my brother so loyal are my friends holy were the words I had but the water is dank and love just smells bad ~XineAnn |