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I try to say goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near.
- Macy Gray, I Try, from her album On How Life Is


What do I miss about you,
Besides the intimacy, of course,
I miss the sweet, friendly banter
The gentle ribbing, we both enjoy
The parts where you get so little,
You can fit in my pocket,
With worries, and doubts,
I can merely ease, not relieve.
The parts where you carry me
In your pocket, with my worries
And doubts, that the mere tone
In your voice, comforts me.
Is this love? I'm never really sure.
But it brings comfort, strangely,
And some support through the darkness.
I miss all these things about you.



Even in silence, you are still my muse.
You are still the lamp, at the end of my long corridor.
I still need your opposites/parallels to my needs.
My sweet/bitter, eagle of my soul.
The denial dragon is still present,
Looking for a place to land and rest.
Opposites and contradictions still rule here,
Are you the Fool or the Magician?
The soul can be a tarot of images.
Hard to ignore strange signs everywhere.
Close scrutiny of Want and Need brings a twisted focus.
Need to get through to go through.






Gypsy Blues



Love (or something like it)