I was locked to read your eyes like an old Latin prayer book. Only the punctuations I had understood; and the blessing of your apparition. Only this pillow set us apart like a mountain that bid only signals to commune; but I was able to caress your hand.

How time crawled. The day brightened, it shed. We were still, unmoving position of mind game dancing. You were the only one playing.

The creases your hair made were still on this pillow. The fresh fossils that they were, I straightened with my indifferent hands. Your tear-stain scent exhibited garland dismembered.

Have you been weeping during your sleep or mine?