Sometimes I wonder...
Could anybody love me?
Would someone care to
Take the time
To discover my longings,
Wishes,
And the secrets that I cover?
Would there be one that
Wished I would be the one?
One he could watch shooting stars with,
Not to wish his girl was one of those
Falling rocks:
A Bolide,
Gone in an instant.

I am a shooting star.
I shine bright enough
For others to take notice.
They always
Wish I was theirs to own,
Wish to kiss my sweet lips,
And wish I didn't leave so quickly.
But they don't have the resolve to
Stop me.
They lust.
They don't love.
If they loved, they would stop me.

Love is eating ice cream at a park,
Dancing slowly at a party,
Doing homework together while talking about
Cheese,
Interests,
Each other.
Love defines a personality.
Suddenly, your world isn't about
You
Anymore. It is about
Another.
You think about
Your other half,
Not yourself.

Love is watching the shooting stars
Together
With two mugs of hot cocoa.
For me, love is a dream away.

Sometimes I wonder...
Who can love a shooting star?