I fell asleep
With your picture in my hands
And your name floating
Through the whispers
Of my thoughts.

Like a smoker
Whose lungs burn with the inhale
But whose nerves calm with the exhale;
Like a drunk
Whose throat stings with the gulp
But whose reality steadies with the swallow;

I'm an addict when it comes to memories--
First the twinge of some kind of pain
Then the flood of some kind of passing relief.

I can't give them up.
I can't give you up.

I'm addicted to the searing relief
Of all sorts of memories,
Especially the ones with you.
And how the hell am I supposed to quit you
When all I have left are the memories of you?