The sweet sickly scent of death wafted across the chilly room at a predatory pace, the neon lights of the somnolent city outside the dusty windows shades of mocking pink and unsubtle orange. You shake piteously, a hysterical scream caged in the constraints of your throat and last snatches of sanity. Your flickering eyes glared pointedly away from the black ink splashed on the whitewashed walls. a smudge of deep wine color occasionally dotting said walls; as you drink in the panic that was surfacing threateningly, suffocating you menacingly like mud flung upon your coffin.

You relax slightly; just slightly as your palms sting due to the razor sharp nails digging into your flesh. Fists unclenched, you make a futile grab for something solid to hold onto. Landing almost soundlessly upon the Indian-carpeted floor, your next breath was almost denied. An unknown curiosity propelled you to touch my fading warmth and watch the etched depression vanish from my facade. An apology that you never uttered shimmered in our touch; only comforting to yourself.

In the relatively grey space we occupy, you exhale, a contented smile slowly and shyly emerging. Your heart calmed, as you ignored the pooled dark liquid I was partially submerged in, your eyes acid-green as always. I stand in the field of fluttering grass, under the lavender sky, only awakening at the sound of your arabesque.