The tears behind the mirror

– I´m just looking for a kiss – said I, taking that small and pale hand.She laughed.- Everything has a price – Said she, drawing a knavish smile on her auspicious feature.- Well… How much it costs?Her tongue licked her lips; with the same satisfaction of antiqual times.- Just another part of your soul.The beating of my heart made itself stronger with her dictions.- I agree – Said I, glutting saliva.- the wourst mistake is sin by the words. You know it.- I don´t care, there is enough blood in my veins; and an empty black hole in my heart, without end. I shall tell you if I desire to stop.- It´s your wish.She removed one of my tears and it turned into ice in the middle of her palm. My eye disappeared, and I didn´t feel it anymore; without pain, drawn in my silent weep.- Come in – Said she, introducing me into the mirror.

***- How charming is see that there´s not doubt here – Said she, fondling my naked breast.I smiled.- yes…- You´re very tender.- Why?- You know that I drain you, and I can´t see your cry.- When I take a rose, the thorns hurt me too. It´s my poison, my adiction; I can´t loose more tears, you must possess all them; and I ought loose the rest of my soul.She kissed me.- Look; the sun is awaking from the coloured clouds, and the birds are singing everywhere you listen to. The wind is soft, and it smells like spring, like the flowers that eternal grow on this earth.- I don´t have my eyes, I don´t have my ears, my nose and my tears. All that is just a remember.- You will die.- Maybe.She closed her eyelids, and a delicate drop escaped timidliy from it.- Your time is over. You need to return to reality.***I didn´t feel my blood. I was blind, and my senses were forbidden.- Take me home – I craved. And she smiled again. Today my voice has disappeared; and my material body lies death on the foggy ice. But she is still waiting behind the mirror, over a lake of tears and lies.Det var för dig, min liten stjärna, som ligger på annan sidan av havet…

By The Evil Cheezman

Purveyor of sacred truths and purloined letters; literary acrobat; spiritual godson of Edgar Allan Poe, P.T. Barnum, and Ed Wood; WAYNE MILLER is the head architect of EVIL CHEEZ PRODUCTIONS, serving up the finest in entertainment and edification for the stage, the page, and the twain screens, silver and computer. He is the axe-murderer who once met Andy Griffith.