Hyperlapse.

Some days have passed
since that night
wherein the boisterous 
sounds were muted 
for very few seconds
when your hair
were on my face;
which meant that
your lips had to
be close to mine.
The wind was
freezing,
hands
were warm;
and eyes were
voluntarily shut
closed.
It lasted;
we lasted like that
for very
small time,
but the minutiae
of those seconds
are keeping 
me up now.
And now
I keep hitting replay
over and over;
the loop ends,
and I hit 
replay again.
This is what 
I have for now.