The mirror holds a warped reflection,
of fading charm,
need and ego.
Pride is an ugly master.
The sun burns and wind obscures
but in the blue haze of your evening
the touch of your hand comforts me,
soothing insecurities for the night,
leaving bruises by morning.
Time is the cruelest of friends.
A thoughtful gesture,
a kind word,
and I'll keep all your secrets.
I hope you'll be gentle with mine.
Love is suspect.
Memory is counterfeit.
All is vanity.