What can I say? I’m addicted to you. No ill effects yet, So I’ll continue to be addicted to you. I thought I kicked the habit, Of thinking of you, As I immerse myself deeper, In the image of you. A pseudo-you pasted on my wall, In my heart, Filling the temporary void, Reserved for you. I tell everyone, It’s the pseudo-you I am after, But inside, The truth holds dear. When I finally saw you again, I found my will power spent, I think of you now, All the more, like I used to. I want to find a way, To be close, Closer to you, So there is a chance of something. I keep relatively quiet, Hoping that our phone conversations, Cleverly give me away, Like a kid back in high school. And I know, There is nothing that can be done, Since we are 500 miles away, But I would sure like to try. Anything bluntly said, Would probably result in fear, Disbelief in my approach, Or ex-communication. I don’t want it to happen, But I would like you to know, Just how I feel now, To know you feel something.
This is the archive of previous writings of the Opiated Sherpa. It's mostly poetry that dates back to 1997, back when I was a sapling of 16. And then since then... this.