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.