Lines of Love

A mirror in the bathroom—can't you foresee?
A thin line of love, should I dare believe?
The reflection stares back with a hollow gaze,
a whisper of hope lost in a haze.

A suction of air inhaled for this pleasure,
a rush so fleeting, yet impossible to measure.
Elasticating my pitiful life,
stretching the moments, cutting like a knife.

This story is short, for that's how it goes—
a brief escape taken to drown out our woes.
But down the line, the pun still stings,
a joke played on ourselves, a cruel set of strings.

The high is a lover with a wicked grin,
a kiss that numbs, yet poisons within.
We chase the line, the promise of light,
but all we find is the endless night.

The laughter fades, the smiles grow thin,
shortening our days, where does it begin?
A meager trip for a glimpse of bliss,
yet we’re left in the dark with a deadly kiss.

And as the lines blur, the future unwinds—
a family broken, love left behind.
For every indulgence, a piece of the soul,
lost in the depths of a mirror’s black hole.

So tell me now, do you still believe
in the thin line of love that deceives?
A moment of pleasure, a lifetime of pain,
a cycle we’re bound to repeat again.

The story is short, but the damage is real,
for the lines of love cut deeper than steel.
Down the path, we lose our way,
shortening lives as we fade away.