are you drunk?

drifting to sleep on the couch
i'll never know if all those times she was just tired
of wakefulness
or was it that she just had too much wine
(perhaps they were linked rather closely)
sometimes she could smile through all the bullshit
i'd be kind, for i understood her wasted potential -
her view was tainted and out of focus
until eventually she saw nothing
not even her own body in front of her
making friends with the darkness;
reaching out and procuring
another wine glass full of sleep
she rose each morning like an aging flower
wise and beautiful, fragile and forgotten -
and broken, stuck to mourn her own living death
but her dreams live on!
floating sweetly in and out of the drifts
between each cushion
just a tish...