She walked across a red line.
'Tasted like red wine.
It may have been a love line...
more like a fault line.
He said he drew the bottom line
that was dessert wine.
And if he felt they had to combine
did he think this was cloud nine?
Her life had become an enclosed shrine
problems within, all entwined.
And the divine already declined,
so he should've quit his whine.
When black revealed its white
or rather, a meddled gray,
people have reached certain heights,
they reach an array
providing them with options, within their sight
to go on, go back, or stay.
Those who choose forward reach a limit
those who choose backward start from the beginning.
Those who stay admit
that they so desperately are clinging
to that line, with even less time.