You are a special opium,
who awakens my soul.

Your very touch
makes me dream,
but never want
to sleep again.

Your simple presence
brings me a joy
beyond comparison
to thing or thought.

Your very scent
gives me visions,
but then my eyes
become bland portals.

Your every whisper
calls me away
from every life
I've ever known,
any life I've wanted.

The mere memory
of smoking with you
haunts every night
of all my lifetimes' slumbers,
eternal soul insomnia
outside your sacred drug.

Maybe this is why
they all smoked opiums:
They were only searching for you,
just as I have always been.