It was the smoke days, the empty bottle days.
The days of sleep.
It was the ignorance days, the forgetting days.
The days between.

And happiness needn't be found,
misery graced the waking dreams.
And you weren't ever around,
at least that was how it seemed.
And god, sleep would be so sound,
with wide-open eyes deceived.

A change in tide
had me in binds,
when returned,
you,
from your reprieve.

And the light you shined
into my bloodshot eyes
still haunts me in my dreams.

So elusive now is sleep,
hidden between the sheets,
memory flowing in streams.