If distance doesn’t count
and closeness can be found
even without words
Then why does it feel
so useless
now to be you-less?

Is it the yin that needs the yang
The moon that needs
the sun to shine
Like my heart needs
its equivalent
to beat its perfect rhythm?

Is it the black that needs the
The poet that needs her reader
The page that longs for words
to find its true fulfilment?

Is it the guitar that needs
its strings
Like a voice that needs
to sing
And Eve needs her Adam
like Isolde needs her Tristan?

Is it my hand that needs your skin
to touch
My body that needs
your soft embrace
Like the puzzle that needs
the fitting pieces?

Is it me that longs to be


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