Shooting Star

Thinking about it now, the notion might appear foolish on the surface. The night sky was dusty at best and completely crowded. Littered across this beautiful velvet blanket were small pinpricks, fiery balls of gas that somehow held the heart of every single individual on Earth.

I know you look towards the sky for help and guidance. I know you watch in awe at the small bodies that float above you, miles and miles away. I know you speak to them in the solace of your room, completely alone. Don’t deny it because the heart wants what the heart can’t have.

Watching a glittery jet stream across the sky always captures my attention. There are those of us who ink our bodies with the picture our eyes bestow us so that when world knocks them down hard and instead of a clear sky devoid of city sights they have a skyline full of skyscrapers they’ll look down at their body, place a finger on the art, close their eyes and wish upon a dream that could someday withstand the uncertainties of life.

There is a certain beauty in this wishful thinking. The idea that a fallen eyelash or a shooting star possesses holds the power to strum a tune at our heartstrings that makes goose bumps appear on our skin from the very sound. I want to fall asleep to that sound, a lullaby that holds me close in its arms and whispers sweet nothings through the night.

I hope you get the chance to catch a shooting star, hold it close to your heart and cling to the hope that it brings you. Only then will you realise that it is an indication of something big, an image you need to blow up in order to understand its message. And I’ll watch you standing under this blanket of heavenly beauty, watch you close your eyes, hold out your hand towards it, hoping to catch whatever magic it leaves in its wake and watch your heart make a wish that I pray come true.

White

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Her innocence

Escapes the darkness

Enveloping the world

White

The blank slate

Eagerly awaiting

Our reprise

White

The four walls

Confining madness

Eyes seeing a world

New and fragmented

White

Each snowflake

Stick your tongue out

Taste the freshness

Till it melts

Blanketing impurity

White

The wings

Perched on our shoulder

Recording the good

White

Blinding pain

That you feel no more

Dust

That gathers

Upon our forgotten

Broken lives

White

Never seemed more pristine

Then the daisies upon my head

Like a halo

That we all carry

Even if some

Choose to hide hearts so good

To become one

With a world so twisted

Finding the way home

Becomes impossible

White

A goodbye

Difficult and sticky

Forever bittersweet