Mirror of Mist

Shall not pain engulf the tiny bud that had wanted to grow into a fragrant flower?

For what I felt for you was love of sorts, and care of sorts. 

The sort that will last. 

You'll cut me up. Feed the pieces to those hungry silhouettes around.

They'll sneer, blame, break me into smaller pieces, of sorts. 

I'll smile all along. 

I swear! 

Whisper a little, a lot. Let them know, its the right thing to do. 

Yes, tear me up. Its a string I tied around one eyeball? Or maybe around both of yours? 

They say I have been pulling it, sort of.

Hah!

That's a mirror they have been holding all along, pulling harder, grinding their teeth.

The string remains strong in between.

Of course I stand behind you trying to sort things out. 

They're sure about the angle, careful to avoid your reflection.

They know their science!

Bastards.

I'll tiptoe a bit more, sort of peep. 

I'll whistle softly, feign indifference, drawn into gaping hollows.

Yes, their mouths.

I hope the teardrop that fell on the rooftop right there won't give me away. 

Run! 

Rather, the moth eaten cushion may just be royal enough for you to sit on and chuckle while I try and hide some more, hoping that you might just be silly enough to find me. 

You have always been smart though.

A tad too awesome at times?

No! I respect the winding grooves you claim to lose yourself in.

Oops, I have the easy life. I hate them for you.

You need 'peace'.

I'll grant you a handful.

Love, I shall leave. 

Maybe an end is what everyone and you need. 

They'll think well. 

You'll love them more and sleep with their words, those thin, deceptive membranes nursing a couple of rotting spheres within. 

Someday you'll stand, sorted. I'll float in a different dimension.

So, good night. Sweet, 'stable' dreams.

P.S.- Do not wake up in between.