#bolide
Can I be every love song written?
Or a longing lost in your heart?
Sweet melodies and
Forgotten harmonies
Are the ampersands linking my soul with yours.
Sempiternal presence and wishes,
Have you found a rocondite?
You will never be able to catch a bolide,
Nor find Yoknapatawpha.
Yet why do I feel so close to you?
A la belle étoile,
Under the beautiful star,
Maybe I wish to be held
In honest, caring arms.
Serendip will come at last,
Cicatrix will fade away.
As I slowly saxify,
Will you ever realize
Now is too late?
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Oh, angel darling,
Protect me from the night sky,
The stars glare on the beauty of the
First full moon.
The sun envies
The softness of the glow,
When bolides crash down
To find the eastern glow.
Where are you now,
Dreaming in the dark?
When you left me it turned off
All the light.
But I don't mind--
I love the feeling this night,
As the moon slips sleepily,
I am left alone.
Alone.
Why can't I get use to that?
Maybe because the stars have their kind,
And the sun has a family--
Why am I like the moon?
The night is colder,
But I don't mind,
Tonight I love the night sky.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
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?
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC