the moon wishes to see someone like you when the sun rises. 

and it’s left with the disappointment of knowing you are not there. 

i’d tell the moon, that a mortal is in love with such a star, but isn't that quite lonely? 

you are the shooting star. you are made from the star’s heart, and when you struck the earth with your fall; particles of stardust sent you to be a human carved by love that faded out letters and romantic books could not compare to.

 tell me i am setting myself up to fall if i let myself become wrapped up in a gift that wasn’t intended for me to receive. tell me it’s too early, tell me it’s the wrong time, wrong place, but they can’t say you are the wrong person, for they don’t understand the way you see the world, and the way i see words, the way the necklace you gave me gets hidden in my jacket, and the way the bracelets i give you are nearly always too loose.