backwards into sleep

Words fail.
Dreams wave good-bye
from misty train windows.
Somewhere,
tears are tasted
at the corners
of a mouth.
Lifelines break-
sort of like poems.
Only there is nothing
artful
about losing
the good fight.
All that was
wrapped in Red
is gray-
except in dreams.
The only way to fly.
dreams. dreams.
Dreams at any cost-
forced safely
by OTC aids
and wine flavored
madness.
Just to hear a laugh,
kiss an eyebrow.
Funny...
when mirth was
simply
a song away.
Nothing sounds
quite the same
anymore.
And words
fail.