Shooting Star

A star fell as the moon made eyes at me,
and I thought about you.
You, so faraway,
fretting and fiddling with your fringe, somewhere in my fantasies,
that faceless shape I ache for when I leave my dreams and land back in reality.


I know you’re out there,
walking the same streets,
whipped up in the same winter wind as it wraps around your scarf and laughs so softly in your ear, just to remind you that you are alive.

I know that you’re somewhere,
breaking down after a hard day,
ordering a takeaway and falling asleep in front of a movie,
wishing you had someone too,
wishing you could find your own… you.

The hills are burning,
my bride,
the valleys are violent once again,
and the rain falls at every opportunity,
but so do stars.
Stars fall,
wishes rise,
hopes hurry forward for their big moment,
and our paths finally cross.
Maybe in a bustling bar?
Maybe on a sunny Sunday?
Packed trains, where my veins are full of rose quartz and the rush of rush hour love.
These are the places I will look for you.


I can see you in the distance.
Not quite clear enough to claim,
but close enough to dream.
Your name is still a jumble of letters that my tongue is waiting to taste,
and your face will one day rest on my pillow,
awoken every morning by a sweet, relieved kiss,
just… not yet.
The world is not done with me yet,
and yet,
I feel like I’m on the way home,
on my way to you.

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