Shooting Stars

Out of all the shooting stars, I’d wish for you.

I was like the wind but you were the Goddamn hurricane.

You blew away a dull and weary world with just your smile and the way you looked will always be within my heart because I know deep down that when fate was teasing coincidence, coincidence whispered pleading to fate that we were meant to be.

I still sometimes wonder if I come across your mind.

What it was that made the universe smile when it saw us.

What it meant to coincidentally meet.

I’d say that you were born of the stars and that your soul was made of stardust and your eyes were as bright as moon beams.

You make the world seem livable and savory.

And if shooting stars were meant to fall crashing down I would still keep believing I was yours.

And all along it was you.