My fingers brush against yours -

Yet I feel nothing.

My breath floats away, visible in the cold night.

Yet I feel nothing.

A faceless stranger calls my name, and I walk by them without a word.

I feel something for a moment.

And then it fades...

Like my mind.

Like my joy.

Like all I have held dear.

It fades, like a leaf on a tree branch.

Caught by the wind, hanging by a strand of fiber.

The leaf is already dead, yet it clings to the tree, because the illusion of life is strong.

But the wind is stronger.