난 괜찮아♔ Fingertips tracing patterns across the canvas of the sky♕ 忙着追逐天空中的流星♙

Message to Readers

please please please help me improve on this piece yall talented people


June 22, 2019


kyōka suigetsu
  1.   n. (Japanese) - lit. "flower in the mirror, moon on the water"; flowers reflected on a mirror and the moon reflected on the water's surface; something that is visible but having no substance; the subtle and profound beauty of poems that cannot be described in words

in an alternate dimension
where the universe is not made up of stars and planets
but mirages knitted together by fine silk and crushed lavender blossoms
there is a girl with

skin as smooth as the golden ichor of gods that drips
from the the fine cracks in her facade
piling into her collarbones like rainwater
and a smile as strong as paper on a windy day

she stands unmoving and saccharinely sweet
in a bed of honey-laced roses
who feel fortunate to kiss her ankles
and bloom out of the molten stardust that fall from her eyes

there is a gentle breath of petals scattering 
on the glassy surface of a mirror as
the girl reaches forward with lilies blooming out of her fingertips
and presses her palms flat against the cold plane

where two universes melt together
except for a paper thin layer of glass
through which she gazes almost enviously
at the beautifully raw and unravelled heart on the other side

​in the estranged world
where the universe is made up of stars and planets and people
and rotten paper skyscrapers that hang from the skies
there is a girl

with oily dark hair falling around her shoulders
that does not shine or glimmer like a diamonds encrusted in obsidian
and there are chrysanthemums blooming through in her gap-toothed smile
which she doesn't see or feel as

her eyes burn emerald gazing through the fourth wall
and her calloused fingertips unwittingly trace
patterns across the reflection of a rose
everyone wished they could be

she couldn't see the poison ivy framing the girl's tongue
as she struggled to hide the bruises on her neck from the torns of the rose
she didn't notice the paint streaking off the girl's cracked lips
as she screams words of butterflies trapped in spider's gauze

and she raises her sore arms 
her hands outstretched towards an unattainable delusion
of a fleeting glimpse of her lifelong longing
she should not desire

not realising that the flower on the other side of a mirror
has perished in its daydream


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1 Comment
  • Blankitude

    Version 2!! View Version 1 on my profile, it is very different but I love it the same.

    over 1 year ago