I always liked the colour blue. The colour of my eyes, the colour of my beloved grandmother's eyes. The lighter blue was my preference, but since the day I first saw her, I prefer darker shades. I sigh, mulling over my thoughts, curling up and pulling my knees to my chest. I can't sleep, I can't sleep, I can't sleep.

There she was, deep hazel eyes staring into my own. I tried to leave her clutches, but I was in too deep. Eyes the colour of sticky honey had trapped me as if I was a sweet toothed wasp. I realised at this moment the feeling in my chest was that of strong desire, attraction, lust, even. It hurt. She was a snare, and I was just a captured fox.

I pull open the curtains and open the window, letting the cool breeze of the night fill my room, and the emptiness of my body. I look up at the stars, connecting constellations. I realise that I am about to cry. I allow myself to, and gaze up at the stars through tear-filled eyes. They look like they're falling... I still can't sleep.

I'm bothered by the rapidly fading memories of the time when she and I were there, alone, at the beach. Time is passing and wearing away the corners of my memories, and I'm helplessly allowing them to fade away. I wonder when I will forget that time... I even wonder over the possibility of forgetting her, but I'd never let that happen. She held my hand and comforted me that day. It was rare she would do that, but she did, and I felt like none of my problems meant anything to me anymore. They became forgotten with time. Just like she slowly began to be. Why, why, why?

I don't know where my legs seem to be taking me, but the first thing that hits me is the fact that I am hurting. My body is wracked with heartache. I am walking barefoot down a road coated with rain that sparkles in the street lamps. I still don't know where I am going. I don't feel like I'm in my own body. Half there, half not. Still, I am alone. The darkness of the ocean comes into view and I find sandy terrain under my feet. Without thinking, I stand there, and allow my pain to take over. If I were to fall apart due to the violence of this pain, would the ocean pick me up and carry me to her?

I find myself not long after that back in my bed, shivering . I feel sleepy, but I'm afraid I'll dream of her. One more time wouldn't hurt, right? I prepare for yet another day of this cliché, never-ending life, and shut my eyes.