Milky white skin she wishes was paler exposed as she lies on the floor. The bed just never seems right for this, all softness and comfort, it is her sanctuary, this is something so much more closely related to pain. Immaculately mosturized hands skim her body as she tries to imagine her fantasy boys, her vampires and renegades. She imagines their hands instead of her own. She imagines their faces, their voices. She imagines their lips... and remembers his. She returns to reality, forgets fantasy, pushes him away. He's gone. That is reality.

un-for-get-ta-ble : Earning a permanent place in the memory

"Oh, it's five o'clock and i cannot sleep
You were in new york and my heart is weak
I'm watching you on this photograph
I'm the biggest fool and i hear your laugh"