I'm torn between understanding and confusion. I'm not angry, I'm not frustrated. I'm terribly sad. I just want to talk to you. To catch up. To say the silly things and all the profound ones too. That, after all, was us. We saw life in it's extremes and it's silliness. We wrote love songs. Because we knew the hurt and bliss of it.
I can't imagine singing now. Not that I only ever did that with you. But I experienced the best with you.
And as I type I know, perhaps you and I could have made a song out of this.
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