do you remember its soft ember touch? the yellow glow atop your skin the tenor of joy hallowed? i have lived a year under only the faint pride of labour the seething of disappointment a back conformed to its chair and confined to its desk, and have forgotten to tell it apart forgotten what it feels like discarded memories of smiling friends as illusion is this a way to make do? is this happiness enough? or shall i delve deeper into that rapturous joy which fills my body with light and my mind with dread? for in that joy, the illusion shattered, and remembrance emerges that this life was once real that once, I had happiness and now, I have its fragments.