I was afraid. I just didn't want the last thing you knew of me to be painful. So I stood back I didn't touch you. I set hands to my body instead and hurt you anyway. Hurt the memory of me that I would leave with you. Exactly what I was afraid of. Ironic. I try to make you compact. Now that I am here alone. But despite my rabid attempts you spread out across my life here too. Everything is too complex. Nothing seems like garbage easy to relegate It all seems like gold. The picture in my head of you is a bit off but so am I, you're smile is the same though, in my head and in the place where you grin out from my wall. I sit in the sun thousands of miles away thinking of you sitting in the sun strumming away and my skin absorbs warmth scars standing out white against the newly tan surface. I miss things but I cope tactics built of a long history. I can't hold you but I can hold this guitar and I can write you build you into a piece of music and learn something new.