Again, projection is the issue. Hope is a word reserved for those looking out and maybe not. Hope can be broken, just like knots can be tied and left. I love your eyes, and yet I do not see them. I love your heart, but I know I am not in there. To say I love your parts is to be presumptuous. But, I have been presumptuous before. I hope with heart and mind. I hope through loneliness’ hands that try to grasp the sands that fall between the cracks. We connect through words, again presumption. We connect, because the silence of our hearts, souls, and parts were not meant to be alone. We yearn for intimacy. We call out in our music.