You

Imagine you are in a forest, surrounded by tranquil noise and vaguely refreshing scents. Yet a damp and opaque mist hangs in the air around you, rendering you almost blind. The silhouette of your love disappears over a ledge and leaves you completely alone in the mist. You hear them continue to walk away, surely they realise they have left you behind...
You wait a while, listening for their return as the mist still blocks your vision. Do you go after them or do you keep waiting? By now you are far too anxious to wait, so you set out to find your love... you probably should have gone sooner.
You resolve to find them, remaining certain that you will, but inside worrying that something has happened to them in this suddenly harsh looking wilderness. In the dense mist you may well have passed them without realising while you have been trudging through the sodden leaf litter.
You see a silhouette in the distance. It must be your love. You run to the figure and embrace them immediately. Only now do you realise that it is not your love, but it is far too late. A macabre grin flashes across their face as they thrust you away from them, down into the mud. They walk of laughing as searing pain flows down your leg. You become aware your leg has been cut open on a sharp rock embedded in the forest floor as you fell.
You get up and carry on; limping forward, now more desperate than before as your life soaks the already engorged earth and feeds the sinister trees. You draw strength from an unknown source and use it to move through the pain as you see another silhouette and call out to them, showing them your wound, crying and feeble. They get closer to you and again you realise it is not your love, but surely they will help you.
They look at your leg and feign a caring smile. You are reassured, unable to see the fake nature of their countenance. That is, until their face turns cruel and they grab your leg and pack the wound with mud and forest debris. You scream in pain as your blood is dirtied and defiled.
Now you lie on the forest floor, unable to carry on, certain that you will die here alone. Your love has forsaken you, left you to suffer at the hands of imposters. They do not love you.
A third silhouette darkens your face as someone else stands over you. Broken, you fight back against an assault that is yet to happen. Flailing tooth and nail, leaving scratches and dents in the figure. No retaliation comes, your hands are stayed and your body is held. Held despite your struggling. You stop out of resignation and fatigue and succumb to the future.
You look up and the mist has cleared. Your love is holding you still.

Forever holding.

Still holding you.