My beloved waits for me day after day for me to return from my nightmare as I call it. But in reality it is a prison and it captures my heart. Its stone cold walls show no mercy. As moisture seeps into my soul. But wait! There's a light! It seeps through the cracks of misery and shines through the dark ways of humanity. My angel, my beloved, and my light. All those names come to mind when the light creates a halo around my beloved. As reality turns to ficture and night turns into day. We consider beloved to  be rare but what I know to be true is that they hold great friendship, and loyalty, even in the darkest hour. What can you call those who understand the real you. You can call them your beloved.