Dissolved Into Nothingness

Truth slithers down into
A puddle at my feet
My reflection is cast in its ice
A sparkle but no real image

Regret bubbles in a pyroclastic
Flow down my body
And I welcome the burn
As it sloughs off my skin

The past is just a series of
Elegant miseries some cold
Some lukewarm some
Ready to strike you alive

There is nothing in my head now
Except an empty tin can
That rattles with a lonely pebble
Or two to keep me company

Life, like a stick of rope,
Does not twist or turn
But lies gray and wasted
Once you are a woman of a certain age

I peek backwards once or twice
The pain like little cuts to my arms
Spring will be here soon and with it
The wondering if there is such a thing

As right mistakes.