It's like catching snow on your tongue. (Take 2)

Here's a cheery little entry from the mystery journal:

pretty boy
with the dark eyes
and the even darker moods

a paradox when walking in the garden
trying to blend in amongst the flowers and
the clean crystalline beauty
a defective chameleon that cannot
try as it might
change its colors to rest within the warmth
and the moist serenity

and although he was once the most brilliant of flowers
he has since withered into a slug
and she the salt on his skin