Untitled Bit of Flash Poetry

The words
are never spoken,
and faded eyes slip away
to anywhere
but the spaces
between.

Dreams lost
amid a storm
of grey
and wishful thinking.

Sugar, he says,
it can’t always be
roses and winestems.
Sometimes
glass shatters,
and thorns
have their place.

I ignore it all
and drift away
from me,
from you.

Out of the whole,
and into a sleepless
walk -
numb,
and barely
breathing.