Past the Reflection and into a Dream

In the fountain from my fairytale you jumped through nickles and pennies with a spirit so rich I thought I saw a golden glow shining from your chest. I smiled and I smile still to think that you could swallow knives and digest them into diamonds. To think that such a wounded angel could be porcelain-perfect again. To think that I was witness to your brilliant dance, and that you meant every perfect curving of your softly shapened mouth. I marveled over the splendour in your delighted eyes and died inside as daybreak pulled me through the mirror again.