He fell from a shooting star,
Dust from angels' wings
Falling from his hair.
His eyes reflected the sun,
Burning bright
From his soul shone the night,
Still, quiet, and tranquil
His heart was the wild,
All fierce and patient
And I fell for him,
Thirsty for his
Pure existence
Of being
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
He fell from a shooting star,
Dust from angels' wings
Falling from his hair.
His eyes reflected the sun,
Burning bright
From his soul shone the night,
Still, quiet, and tranquil
His heart was the wild,
All fierce and patient
And I fell for him,
Thirsty for his
Pure existence
Of being
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