I am an addict
  Touching
  Smelling
  Seeing
  Hearing
  Tasting
  Thinking
  Feeling
These are the ways I use.
You are my substance.

Lots of people come and go.
Lives cross each other, yet o one knows.
The corners are always lively.
The vendor makes another sale, and
the customer leaves satisfied.
Someone waits across the street, for
someone else to meet them.
They connect to each other with a smile.
Hands held and stride as one.
The storefronts shine brightly
hoping to make a sell.
The beauty of the city
is made by you and me.

You are the type of beauty
that can only be felt through the heart.
You are the type of beauty
that isn't noticed at the start.
You are the type of beauty
that comes later in life,
the one flows through struggle and strife.
You are the type of beauty
that is hard to find,
the one that is worth all the time.
You are the type of beauty
that only I can see,
the one that becomes more beautiful every day
and only to me.

Far apart.
Not really. We are in the same state.
Feels like oceans.
Like at least two.
Time is relative.
1 day equals 1000 years.
I remember your face.
Not as well as looking in reality.
When you are not talking to me
Your voice.
Its like nails on chalkboard.
In person. Its angels playing harps in heaven.
In the mirror.
I see your eyes where mine should be.
That's why I spend hours at the mirror.
I know you are okay.
Can I not worry for no reason?
There is a submarine in my chest.
I'm not sure if the feeling is rising or sinking.
They might be the same.
My hat is a little snug.
I just think it was made to give me a hug.
When I need one.
That wasn't supposed to rhyme.
Not this time,
anyways.

I look forward and see behind me.
What I see is right beside me.
That face, to me, belongs to someone else.
Different structure with a different force.
I look closer, to see beyond,
but all I see, is gone.
The endless depth of perception
is gained.
Correction.
What I see is not true.
Mind wanders to a different hue.
Peering back, and gazing closer,
I notice the imposter.
I myself am the disaster.
Causing my own storms,
in this reflection they form.
I think as I watch it unfold,
why had no one told
me.
It was me who was the stranger.
It was me who was in danger.
The person giving me grief
was a criminal, a thief.
He stole my identity,
so now I must be
me.

The colors of my mind
range from grey to gray.
Nothing is black and white.
Even newspaper takes on color.
The shades of opinion
vary from one to one.
The sky is gray.
The ground is gray.
Green is the perfect compliment
to red.

Day by it gets bigger,
this feeling of shrinking.
A tug of war is played daily,
the ship slowly sinking.
Deeper, deeper, and deeper still.
A reason is lost,
but not its will.
Rise to float.
Get off the boat.
And join the birds in the sky