If I could describe my loneliness, it wouldn't be cold. It has been so long with me now it absorbed the warmth of my body. The first thing: My loneliness is warm. It has no defined shape, amorphous, depends on what I miss the most, sometimes a person, company, sometimes a hug, sometimes a book, and sometimes happiness. And this is the second thing: it varies on my need.
Its voice is sweet and embrace my thoughts, hypnotic, and remember me of things I once had, and things I wish I did have. So this is the third thing: it's nostalgic (maybe one more reason I find hard to let go of it).
The fourth thing is that it is my longest mate, ever. I've portrayed it, added effects and characteristics, for it to be entirely mine. So it became.
My loneliness is my closest friend, who knows all my pain, all my sorrow, who never left, even in the happiest moment.
So I dedicated this to it. The day it shall part, I'll be sad, but I know it will only happen for my good, it knows me so well, and I'll be visited now and then, we'll celebrate the old times. And when I die, it's the most certain thing in my life, my loneliness will sleep beside me, for the eternity and beyond.
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