Fading

I am forgetting the sound of your voice, the smell of your skin, the taste of your lips.
Forgetting is more painful than memories have ever been.
I force my mind to stay still and remember. I go through blank pages, looking for smears left by my senses.
They must've been written in invisible ink to begin with.
A wing of shadow is growing inside me. Shade is the only thing I can grow from within.

Photo by Gilad Benari