She undresses me like no one ever did.
Like a mother, and I'm her baby, she strokes and caresses my face.
She shows no disinterest in wanting me.
Close to her bosom, I feel her heart pace.

An escape so unreal and real at the same time.
I draw myself forward, leaning towards her warmth.
She runs her fingers through my hair, she backcombs it.
This sudden belonging, where is it coming from?

I feel her need for my presence.
But what do I exactly have to offer?
What is left of me and what does she want?
Her back so smooth but yet, with so many lines to uncover.

She pulls away and leaves an old, grey photograph.
She leaves, nothing. Nothing but a faint memory.
Of her slender figure, her neat brows, her light footsteps.
She vanishes. I can't recall. Nothing. No story.

I'm awake but I feel no pulse, no heartbeat, no life.
I speak but with no intention to make a sound.
I gaze but with no intention to search.
I touch, I feel for anything, but I stumble and fall to the ground.