She’s “with me all the time,
The drugs can have my mind, love,”
She’ll “want the rest you’ll find,
And” she’s “with me all the time.”

And it’s true, she is.
Right here between my two temples,
She sits as if she’s some pagan statue,
Resembling a Greek goddess
And I can’t get her out.

She just sits there,
Demanding my worship,
Drawing my soul from its depths,
To be met only with the unforgiving touch of stone.

Stone as are her thoughts of me,
As are her feelings and emotions for me,
Any fantasy that may have been has now died,
As does a dog when starved beyond recovery.

And worry not,
I’ll be far too blind with despair to invade her happiness,
I can hardly see the stars in the skies,
Let alone those that linger in her eyes.

The ones that speak of the frivolous joy and wonder,
That she seems to find through anyone but me,
That would remind me of my own flaws and failures.
No, I’m too blind to see those.

Not blind enough though,
To be drowned in darkness,
But blind enough to be taunted by blurred images of life.
Images that seem to tell me,
“Look we exist.
The world is grand and beautiful
And never again will you be able to see it.”
If only I had my mind.

If only I had my mind.
Maybe then I could have my eyes.
Maybe then beauty could come up and engulf me as it used to.
Maybe then I could feel the touch of passion,
Caressing my heart.
Maybe then I could bathe in peace as I once did.
Restore my sight I beg you.