Her face illuminates with hues of honey and warmth. Her hair cascades down her back with the scent of french vanilla. Outside the window, the rain comes down like arrows of ice and plays its melancholy eternal song. In the sober light of day, we part with sweet whispered kisses. Yet, was it all an illusion? Bitterness starts to seep and chill the air. What do I care? The past is nipping at my heels. I will ignore it for as long as I can. For now,  use me up until there is not even one atom left of my being.