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My ink pen is so nicely painted on a piece of paper, white, with edges, embroidered with ice blue ink.

I began to put words together, writing down my memories and hopes in them. However, my heart is still overwhelmed with sadness. The bone tub must continue to be faithful to the thick of the flesh. My heart still does not want to leave you, unable to this soul enter another path, I want to be in the same direction with it.

If God really had a creature called an angel, could he be a witness to the strokes of ink on this paper?

I'm at the bottom of the ocean, I want everyone here to be a witness, I want the sky to be a witness, but I can't seem to see the sky at the bottom of the ocean.

My heart was torn, hurt so badly, but love ignored the pain of what I was feeling and treated it.

I know, I can part at any time, because separation is real.