addicted

an obsession with her drives me,
this obsession makes me live,
this wakes me up each morning
although suffering i weep
and the pain weighs more than words
and the want is always there,
although time is passing by
it's her that i constantly seek.
she is there throughout my dreams
moments when i sit and sigh
and the world is constantly changing
no one ever asking why.
simplicity no longer simple
but difficult to maintain,
as thoughts are jumbbled
by memories that evaporate
discussions that allude
to things gone by-gone
dissapeared into the darkness
that is the void whole that is my mind.
My addiction asks for her,
seeks her everywhere in sight,
seeks comforts in her scent
reconstructs her touch, her feel
and the way i felt.
the want is great, the mind is weak,
and yet upon arrival it is not her i want to meet
it is the memory of her, lost, created, forgotten.
An obsession, forgotten.
It's the feeling i seek.
and this may be meek
but a full confession
it wasn't her i loved-it was the addiction.
It is me i want back.
it is me that is lost.
evaporated like a memory, or a stain in the water.