When I close my eyes, I see faces of people who have left.

I see smiles.
I see memories.
I see leaf piles.
I see passion.
I see small towns.
I see compassion.
I see rosy cheeks.
I see bonfires.
I see happy weeks.

When I open my eyes, I see the faces of those remaining.

I see tears.
I see decline.
I see fears.
I see locked doors.
I see alcohol.
I see unfamiliar floors.
I see red lines.
I see broken homes.
I see dark times.