flutterbys and bygones
secrets like whimpers
and wimpers like lashes
beating away the tears
sometimes... and sometimes
just sometimes... and sometimes.
yes is melting
like a dream that soaked through
dreams that were dream-like
with sighs that were clouds
raining life into the space of a waking hour
now, see?
against the glass
and inside
pieces that fit together
and pieces that never belong!
all soaked, through and through
with the tears of the lost
again and again
sometimes
empty as pages
scribbled anew
past and past and past and past
and remember
and pretend that in the waking
hours is the dream
before it is lost
and gone and gone and gone
again
sometimes and sometimes
again and again
and away with the tears
as a wimper.
