‘It’s almost as if no time has passed. I’m sure for you, it feels like a hundred years; a lifetime. Each time I speak to you, a thin curtain veils you from me, your silhouette visible but never quite the details of your face. I handed you my heart so long ago… What have you done with it now? Does it lay atop your dresser, dust settling? Have you left it to decay, deep under that bed of yours, where you lay every night? Constantly I wonder what it feels like for you to close your eyes and visualise a blissful utopia, your dreams filled with stories to transform into realities. I feel the weight of the empty space that hollows out my chest. The veil between you and I grows darker with each minute I let slip, the light fading slowly. Eventually, I know, I myself will fade, and disappear from this world with nothing but my sorry heart to leave behind in this world, the way Beethoven left his music and Poe his stories. Will you find me then, just as my soul slips away, and beg for me to stay? Perhaps your voice will be enough to call me back from this darkness I slowly absorb, enough to lift this veil. But, darling, until then, my cold heart remains unmoving in your still hands, in this empty love I fall into over and over again.'