I saw a window.
It was of the inhabitants of our nocturnal natures.
I kissed your hand in this mirror and you kissed my forehead back.
We wore matching outfits like a fucking Gap commercial.
It was solid baby blue sweaters with paisley under button-ups.
I loved it.
And than the house caught fire with flames like we had burned for each other.
The firefighters started blasting their green phallic water “whatevers” onto the flames as the smoke rose and the window broke.
My mirror is gone.
I only look at a soggy ember memory.
I saw myself try to jump out of that window for self preservation.
But I never quite reached the guts.
Now I have a chard face that no-one, not even I, had the stomach to look at.
So maybe its good the window broke…
But the memory remains.
You were burned into it, as I tried to douse the passion with my own salty watery eye drop “whatevers” onto it.
I go back to that house from time to time.
Luckily there is still not a mirror to reflect my unrecognizable face, but your memory still lives in those blackend walls.
I mostly sit there and think…
And weep for our perfect mirror.
If only I had enough water to lend, we could still reflect in that nightly window.
Exposed and perfect.
Next time I will…
I will put you first out of the mirror and use my water to save our window.
-Chronicles Of A Flame
-Joshua Tool 06/14/17