lost buttons

these eyelids
are heavy, not
with sadness
or sorrow, but
from the fatigue
of the days
and nights running
into one another
without order
or remembrance,
and much of what
has transpired
is best left
unremembered, but
it will come
back in some form,
a receipt, a
charge, a torn
shirt, stained,
with what,
i'm not sure,
or a lost button
that i heard rattle
away, hitting
the floor with that
distinctive button
sound, rolling
beneath a chair,
a table, never,
like these hours,
to be found.