Moonlight beams emerge on the slightly-opened clear glass window, the night sky making its profound presence known to the lonely soul that weeps in the corner, interlacing strands of hope, weaving dreams into a quilt of love. The object of her affection is nowhere to be found, so near yet so far. She sews her devotion, thread by thread, her faithful nature fastened into stitches that no scissor could ever shred. Her pricked fingers will not give up until the last drop of blood has escaped her veins. She will forever weave her dreams and turn it into a blanket of love to cover his cold heart, his naked body and his weary soul.
But tonight, she will sleep alone in her empty bed, holding nothing but the quilt of love, clasping it with both hands, close to her chest. And tonight, she will dream of him, his beautiful smile, his twinkling eyes, his vibrant face.