A problem

How is it possible
That there is a state of being
—my current state of being—
Where I am occupied with
—and I really mean occupied with—
Missing you.

It’s hard for my mind to let go
Of the image of you
I don’t want to spend time with anyone else
I can’t think of a way to nourish myself
When all I’m graving for is you.

I’ve turned into an aimless, tortured soul
With no clear direction—
But the one that points to you

And it’s said that that’s a bad thing
A problem
Or so my mind says

And so I fight it
So I try hard doing reasonable things
But I’m a lost cause
Wandering aimlessly through this city
I am learning isn’t mine