A soft sigh leaving the enclosure of my lips,
briefly letting my disappointment become visible.
How could anything so beautiful be touched?
If only I were to grasp the brightness of the star,
the beauty of my muse,
I could then grasp why I can’t have it.

Like a glimmering star,
like a dozen golden coins sinking to the sea floor,
I allow my hand to reach and attempt
if only just an attempt
To grasp what could've been mine.

If only in another life, or in another
timeline.
I could have him.
But Fate plays tricks,
Weaves lies,
And, oh, does Fate have stories to tell.
Like that of Romeo and Juliet,
some things may never come to fruition
as you’d like it.
But to have never been given a sliver,
not one feeble slice,
of a chance at something you’d so desperately love,
Some would rather be dead.
Then to live without the stars.
Then to breathe without gold.
Then to never find Romeo.

And so I breathe, and Fate doesn’t change.
But how I react to her does.
And Fate can’t play tricks
with her hands bound,
with her mouth sewn shut,
nor with the light of day
never touching her face
again.

I am Fate
I am the stars
I am sinking gold
I am Romeo,
As I am Juliet
I am Toby.
And that’s all I have to be.