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.
.