Counting down the years brings me affliction. Your name, voice and remembrance ain't dwindling. Your memories are stirred in my soul like a principal necessity that builds up a body. The difference is I am perhaps not growing but just adhere to past, to you, in your silhouette. Everyday I try your number with a hope of 'Hello' which is a hallucination in a mirage. But it never dies. It never kills my fingers to run back to you, even though it is mere starless. Letting others know about you led me to this point in life that I regret trusting the idiom 'blessing in disguise ' into human personification. I have enveloped you anonymously in my words that the world will never know till it ends. And that you are so much safe now. But very, very sadly rescued after losing you. Alive in prosody.