Addiction.

You are loved,
like the last cigarette from the pack.
Probably the first of the day
Which could very well be the last
Or not.

Who knows, really, 
which you are, which you will be.

You are sought,
you are wanted
with quiet longing
with surprise
and then with much eagerness.

That you have remained,
You, the cruel reminder
the never forgotten
the embodiment of a moment
of how moments should exist
aware, vivid, infinite
but not before long
You are loved.

You are loved
for the way I crave,
you demand
that I gasp for breath
take it slow and savour you.

You are loved,
for a moment, loved
quite unlike the rest.

You are loved
because you, too, shall end
but then--
this one, the next one
you could put a stop to the chase
or just make me want another
and wish every other

was every bit like you.