It was cold.

It was oh, so cold, and my brittle bones were shaking like the leaves on one of the nearby maple trees.

My stomach grumbled, but I was used to it. I couldn’t eat no matter how hungry I was. To eat would be to come out of the dark safety of my cave, my sanctuary, my hiding spot. Eating would be the end of me and my eternally disintegrating figure.

He was still there. Narcissus, the beautiful love of my life was still by the edge of the water, bent over, his perfectly sloped nose grazing the surface of the pond. He had been lying there ever since that day, that tragic, stomach wrenching day where he tore my heart into two halves without so much as a second glance.
Narcissus’ legs were starting to take root in the soft, crumbly soil, turning green and getting smaller. He hadn’t noticed yet, and I don’t think he ever did. Tears fell from his eyelids as he called out to himself. They shattered the mirror as they landed, and his eyes widened at the thought of never seeing his own beauty again.

“No!” he croaked, his tears stopping in heartbroken terror. His reflection settled itself in the pond after a few moments of tearlessness, and his heart pieced itself back together as a beautiful smile gathered on his face.

“There you are,” Narcissus cooed to himself. He reached behind his body and plucked a small flower from the grass.

“Here you go, my beautiful buttercup,” he said dotingly to his reflection. He gasped out of joy as he saw his mirror image holding a flower out to him as well.

“Thank you, angel!” Narcissus exclaimed, reaching out for the flower. His fingers brushed against the water, rippling his reflection yet again.

My heart ached for this man; this stupid, selfish man that I would always love. He looked ridiculous as he stared at himself hour after hour, day after day, month after month, year after year. His was body slowly but surely withering away into something yet unknown. His waist to his feet were green and small, with leaves sprouting out in random places.

I watched him every hour of every day. I never got bored or tired of it. I felt the same way for Narcissus as he did for himself. I could watch him and never tire, swoon over him without getting my heart broken again. I knew him better then he knew himself without really knowing him at all.

Every day, more of his body turned small and green. Eventually, only his face remained, and then that too disintegrated. What was left was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen; even more beautiful then Narcissus himself.

It was a narcissus flower. Its petals were the same corn silk yellow as his hair had been and they were pointy and sharp, just like his jaw. The center was small and white, the same color as his face.

The flowers spread all over the forest and beyond that, too. I stare at them just as I stared at Narcissus: with love and awe and disbelief that something so perfect could ever exist.

Here I remain, faded away to nothing but a voice, a repetition. I travel in whispers, peeking into conversations while somehow living unobtrusively. I will eternally miss my love, my only true love; my selfish, heartless, beautiful love, Narcissus.