Every night, he burns with passion under the soft candlelight of his room. Every night, he creates butterfly dreams which find their way back into his temples incensing his lovelorn madness for her. He paints his dreams on his fingertips which when stretched towards her, turn to mist. He looks for her in the twilight shadows; her gentle breaths which once rocked him to sleep. He spends the sunsets of his remaining life dusting his memories of her into vivid clarity. That which he can’t have, he keeps them alive in his heartbeat; colouring them in his dreamland with crayon fingertips.