I am addicted to you
Every ounce of what I can find
In the depths of your soul
I hear you calling me
Keeping me up all hours of the night

The idea of being able to awake
With you by my side
Is enough to drive me mad
For hours, no, days on end

It’s a rare ten minutes
Where you don’t cross my mind
The sad part is
I can’t distance myself
From you

My subconscious
Is addicted as well
You have appeared
In countless dreams
The hero in my nightmares
I blink and see you

My body craves your heat
The curve of your spine
I long to memorize
Every outline
Of muscle and spot
Every blemish on your skin

If you dare ask
If I’m addicted to you
I will nod quietly
And beg you
Not to stage
An intervention

Words spoken
to paint a picture
Of a life so grand
the perfect mixture
Of love, joy, peace
and happiness
The freedom to pursue
a measure of success

A life with no dissention
but only tranquility
To walk hand in hand
in a spirit of humility
To work together
to reach our goals
No longer two halfs
but finally a whole

Freedom to exercise gifts
through self expression
Never tearing down
or have bad intentions
Building up
in the spirit of love
One that's so pure
and sent from above

The ideal life
portrayed through words
But time will tell
what'll really unfurl
A simple disagreement
turns into WWIII
I got question for you
is the grass really green?

all faith was lost in a caravan car park with seats reclined,
a family of four, small and contorted, wrapped
around a car for an uncomfortable night of no sleep,
and for the soundtrack:
                                                propeller blades of the port and a grown man weeping.

now we understand and gather and know and grasp the concept of loss,
now it's a:
                                                brother to a younger sister
                                                and now a lost son to forever mother
                                                and a lonely child to a missed father,
                                                insurance-won't-be-done-on-time
                                                because the route-master turned up late.

now loss can never be found so it stays stuck in memory,
now memory is:
                                              reverse the car into the garage and don't stop for the wall,
                                              or bend over double and crawl into the back of a van
                                              duck down because you're tall for your age.

so now you're no longer and when this is realised
i will write this up into a stage play for you
to hide and conceal and disguise the face that will undoubtedly bloom in tears.

*Earlier my eyes wandered looking for someone through a window watching the main street in the rain. It's been a year and still you've missed the refrain, we'll try again on the chorus perhaps next year sometime.

Here they come
The tears
...
Took them long enough.