I hold my hand as I walk the paths of lonesome.

In sentimentality I live.

In the mourning of life I reside.

I do not walk away from the deep rivers of loneliness.

Instead I embrace it.

I hold my hand as I walk the paths of lonesome.

🌙

Dear friend I am yours in love.

Dear friend I am yours in trust.

I walk with you knowing your despair, feeling your wounds, I hear your cry.

🌙

Dear friend I hold your hand. I feel your fingers. Cold.

🌙

In sentimentality I dwell as I let the salty tears paint my appearance.

I know nothing.

I hold on to nothing.

I am alone. In this truth my wounds flourish, my pain shines and the rivers are alive with an intense blackness that only pure light will recognize.

🌙

I hold your hand.

My friend.