My words are bent and broken.
The vowels creak and shudder
I am less and so much more,
Inspired to write as if a quest
For nothing and everything,
Quiet with a resonating temper.
What is your request for this eve,
To laugh or to sing?
A sonnet of unrequited love,
In a Charlie Brown tale.
I do what I must to pass the desperate minutes much more quickly.
A tear or a smile may break me,
As I hold a mirror in front of you tilted.
I rehearse and forget it all the same.