At that night, you told me that every stars has it's own meaning and your favorite was draco—the the dragon. I asked you why and you told me it resembles your old self—a destructive one.

"i'm not capable of making you happy" he said.

i'm not the missing star of your constellation,
i'm not the sunshine to your morning
i'm not your cravings of satisfaction
i'm not the one who's gonna wait for you while you're walking to that aisle that you and i have dreamt,
i'm not the one who's capable of wiping your tears when you are sad.

but i know one thing for sure—he gasped for air, trying to bring back himself from crying.
i know that i can love you till the end, i may or cannot do all of this, but as long as you're here it's alright.