Hourglass at night

When someone brings you butterflies
makes you dance
takes your breath away
and steals your heart
then smashes it
There’s no vessel left to carry lightness
so it trickles away through your fingers like sand
as you clutch at it, grab it, hold it in fists balled up to your chest
but no matter how tightly your fingers can clench
or how much you wrench up in a fight of despair
it’ll fall from your hands
all in one flight or a slash at time
grain by golden grain it’ll drain away
while the seconds, minutes, hours drip by
as you reach sleepless for dreams of olden days
until you’re back to nothing, none, no one
groping and gripping at shattered, jagged pieces
of what they had of yours and broke
and the precious bits of dust they left behind
to remind you of what once was
And who you once were