someone you cannot know

lament of a dream-chaser's net

though i am a small net, so easily caught
on the thorns of a shrub an ex-lover had bought,
not all ot the butterflies i'd held within
fluttered, flit, flew through the tears in my skin,
as some of them, lost in the threads of my mind,
still keep me twitching and falling behind,
afraid to look forward, effectively blind;
i'm simply so nervous, i cannot unwind.