How can I recall the last time,
I ever made a wish on a star,
When every shooting star I saw,
Was with you,
Every wish I ever made,
Was with you,
About you,
And what was the point,
When the wishes remained wishes,
When the memories we wanted to create,
Remained in the form of mere words,
Albeit beautiful but never lived.
These stars that come out every night,
They are supposed to create light,
And yet every time I see them,
I am engulfed in only darkness,
I’m filled with a grief unexplainable,
For these stars are just a reminder now,
Of what could have been,
But can never be.
