Seventeen

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A blue sun rises on the day she turns ten and seven
On the day she was to be married

He lies as pale as the snow
His skin as cold as the ice
His lips turned the color of his eyes
And his eyes closed forever

Seven days
Were the most beautiful of all

His heart was pierced by her love
Now it is pierced
By a familiar
Long,
Narrow,
Shard of a mirror.

"Kuwana,"

She tears the mirror from his chest
Throws it at a corner
Shrieking in her agony

"Kuwana, he is not alive."

Her hand is cut open from the mirror,
But the blood cannot rush out as fast as her tears

She demands that the mirror gives him life again
Anything, she will do
Anything
Anything!

"Kuwana..."

ANYTHING!

"He was never alive, Kuwana."

Her gaze falls upon him again
He has faded into snow
The features which in the seven days
She had spent few moments
By anything besides admiring
Now blowing away in a mysterious breeze

BRING HIM BACK!

"Kuwana... He was never alive, Kuwana."

no

"He was"

No

"Never"

NO

"Alive."

NOOOOOOO!

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