Within the midst of the yellow desert sky, held a hazed façade that looked down on the woman within her amber prison. Such captivating eyes, that one would behold only to find themselves being sucked into an endless world of golden luminosity, belonging to a breathless wonder. She whispered, speaking to the woman, but her voice was mute, and the only thing that was alive within her was the memories of what she had wished to remain forgotten.

The woman's face was pale, having the edges of her face burned from walking endlessly on the barren wastelands for so long. She breathed faintly, watching the eyes of the face that made up the haze of the flaxen skies and the glaring sun. The heat waves had almost been too much to bare on her lungs, which had almost been ironic that in her gloved hand barely grasped onto a cigarette.

As the cigarette dropped from her limp fingers. Thinking to herself distantly while ruminating over the past tense within the eyes that made up the sun, the woman lay, silent, inert, anesthetized. Many times she was ordered to rise, but for the first time in a long time, she'd decided against her commands. She could not get up, for she was paralyzed and numb, lazy and uncaring for a change. Just about the only thing in her body that was working entirely was her heart and breath, everything else had reached to a shut down as the woman was not at all there.

Such a dulcet voice of the past. The man she loved. The one she lost.

By the corners of her lips, the woman managed a scarce smile, although her expressionless face had revealed nothing more than a dazed emotion. She wanted to reach up to the heavens, to grasp onto the hand that reached down to her, hoping that it would be who she thought it would have been. But she'd already known that she would only reach air rather than her love. She had forgotten how long it'd been since it had reached its end.

What she wanted was to relive what little happy memories she had, just so that she could walk further ahead, passed the haze--beyond that, she would find her lover. The man who would welcome her with open arms, just as he always had before. Though times had changed, and the woman was willing to accept that as years passed, only stopping at meager times to dwell in what has been finished.

Passed her lips, she spoke. To herself or to someone else, she did not know.

A distant melody played, like a composition she'd known but had just forgotten.

Closing her eyes as a strong wind blown, her breath was shuddered and drawn just as the woman was engulfed by the white sands of the desert.