there was a boy who could see others only through a mirror of smoky
glass.  he learned to live in a world apart, with neither joy nor
sadness for his plight, for knowing nothing else how could he feel
loneliness?  but one day, a girl shattered his glass, and his eyes
became open to the world.  he felt love for her flash as lightning,
tearing a gash into his heart from which he could never recover.  but the
girl fell out of knowledge having scarcely touched his heart, and for the
first time the boy felt alone, without companionship save the hole 
love had etched in his heart and the star sewn by spirits that would
bind his hand in the otherworld.  

so, against tears, he pursued the
fall into love as a fox might chase specks of dust in a morning
sunbeam.  yet his lifetime of isolation had left the boy with no common
precepts for the cruel games played with hearts by those bound to
society's wheel.  in the summer of youth, girls sought after boys in
search of fantasies and lent their devotion only to those that would
stricken their hearts with mimed caricatures of their blushing
schoolgirl dreams.  coming of age, girls became women, and searched
only for those that would grant them tame little gardens to tend.  but
the boy cared only for his dream of a depthless bond for the one who
is loved, so he was a ghost to them.  the girls had no longer time for
one so dark and strange.  wherein then had been his chance for love?

alone, unregarded, the boy sat in a decaying tower on the edge of a cliff
overlooking the sea, wishing only for the affection of one that could
tear him from his icy recluse.  he wondered if the spell that had been
broken when first love smashed his looking-glass had again darkened
his sight, for he saw no one.  the numberless days were drained
setting his feelings in words, his life a wash, his only friends two
cats, and so he remained until his time evaporated