Is it really late in the night or is it very early in the morning? Time hasn't made much sense in the last few days (or is it weeks). Well I don't really care. Stagnant and fluid in the same moment as it is, I have become impervious to time. Still, it looks like it is almost dawn. The India ink spilled sky looks just a shade lighter. And it feels..., well I couldn't be as flippant as to call it good but somehow it feels less bad, out alone at this hour. The crunch of the dried leaves is a welcome sound after my self imposed silence. All this while I had blocked out the world, its sounds, whispers, voices, sighs, moans and thoughts, trying hard to preserve whatever memories are left. I embrace my self harder. It is partly the wind, it feels a little chilly, partly because I feel lonely and hug deprived. But mostly I am just trying to remember what it felt like in your big, warm arms. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Yes, i still remember the exact colour of you eyes, every contour of your face. I remember your voice and how it changed with your every emotion. I remember the feel of your skin, your hair. I remember how nice you smelt. I remember every bit, for now at least. It scares me. I do not want to forget how dark your brown eyes were or the exact citrus peppery smell of you, but I know I will eventually. Even now, with every step I can feel a little of you slipping away. I am searching hard for that baritone voice of yours. It comes no more to my ears and only faintly to my mind. But I still feel jello-fied like I always used to and it almost makes me smile. At least I can still feel you, a right I refuse to relinquish. It does feel like near dawn. I think I'll go and give in to the deceptively peaceful slumber. And when I wake up, maybe it will finally be morning.