In my time

To me,
everything is you,
you are everywhere,
except with me

I see you
distinctly through memory's glasses,
but since you are blinded
by the harsh, cruel present
I've become just a blur to you

Part of the crowd
One with the mass

At some points,
your face, voice and touch seem real
and I know they belong with me
Yet these fleeting points
no longer exist
In my time