Tell Me Tell me you're alone, reclined beneath the hush of a fading hour. Tell me the color of your garments— before memory touched them, before desire left its quiet shadow. You remember her, don't you? The way time gathered around her laughter, how her reach could still the air, how her scent lingered long after she was gone. Tell me you feel it still. That tremor That echo. That holy ruin she left behind.