The flowers are wilted now and everything starts to fade ... The way she looked, smelled, and tasted are blending into the shade... Abstract memories of her dancing silhouette, still haunt my vague dreams. Nothing is really at all what it seems. I can no longer remember our mundane conversations... Our poetic contemplations... Our eloquent frustrations... Or our elaborate condemnations... It is all fading into a blurry grey soup of something called, forgetting...