A stillborn love will infect every meaningless breath we take until the last one escapes our lungs and only then will our passion flatline. Like red strands of hair falling slowly, collecting on the same tile that cradled my knees in the darkest moments in which I couldn't bare your absence, our love dissipates in time, rediscovered in the most unexpected, brightest scenes of remembrance only to be lost again in the hands of those who would grab at the affection we savored only for each other.