once i met a mirror-boy. i remember him appear on a dull afternoon in january all covered in blue; just like the sun at this time of the year. as hands he had silver-lakes so deep that they could hide a million dreams and unspoken thoughts and so they did. i secretly wanted him to drown me in those lakes but of course he never did. a night, i got audacious. while he was asleep, i tried to take off his gloves; he always wore **** leather gloves so people like me would not get tempted to dive in, you see. most people were so blinded by the gloves that they forgot what they were supposed to hide. unlike others, i was blinded by his hands. since the day i saw the silver-blue tinge, i had been profoundly infatuated by the thought of what lay beneath the surface. the desire grew inside of me as thousands of japanese cherry flowers and i yearned to fill my lungs with frigid water; but my ardent breath woke him up. for a minute or so, we were quiet. we just sat as marble statues. he tried to reach for something in my eyes; he tried to seek the truth. perhaps he wanted to know why i freely wanted to drown myself but i never got to know. i never asked him just like he never asked me why i wanted to take off his gloves. he knew i never meant to steal anything and i stopped trying to take off his gloves while he was asleep.
for a long time i did not speak of it because i wanted to forget. but on a foggy day in march, it occurred to me that i would never manage to forget the silver-blue tinge; it haunted me in my dreams, it haunted me when i was cooking, it haunted me when i was humming, it haunted me every single time i looked at him and he knew. he did not speak of it either because he was well aware of the consequences that followed. he never told me the consequences but as time went on i discovered them by myself. i told him that i did not care about consequences but he just shook his head in response. later, i found out that he did not want to pull me down his gloomy remembrance; he did not want me to get burned by the orange sorrow inside of him. i felt miserable; i wanted him to know that we were supposed to share every little detail of our concerns; every unthinkable corner of our fragile minds we were supposed to tell each other. i poured out my soul and cried purple blood whenever the opportunity arose; he just sat down and listened to me until my words became silent and then he kissed stars on my ribcage and left circles on the back of my hands as a reminder of his beautiful words. i wanted to reciprocate; i wanted to kiss stars on his ribcage but every time i tried he pushed me away and i never quite understood why.
once i met a mirror-boy. as hands he had silver-lakes so deep that they could hide a million dreams and unspoken thoughts and so they did. i secretly wanted him to drown me in those lakes but of course he never did. why did i call him mirror-boy you might ask? you see, the one time i caught a glimpse of his left hand, i saw a reflection in the silver-lake; the reflection had lightly moon-kissed skin and reminded me of fresh air. she seemed familiar but i could not think of why. perhaps it was her giggly face. japanese cherry flowers bloomed inside of my bones. i blinked and then she was gone. desperately, i looked for her in the silver-blue water but i could not find her. i did not understand - where has she gone? in my search for her, i met a pair of tender male-eyes. they were warm enough to melt all thinkable sorrows away although they were as ice-blue as the bottom of the silver-lake.
that was when i realised.
*(k.w)
if you ever find your mirror-lake you should take good care of it. these people are worth a fortune. do not look through your eyes; look through your soul. you will recognize one when you see one.
this poem is dedicated to my mirror-lake; he has nothing but a heart of gold.