Lately, I'd been wondering what shape we were.
Sometimes, I think we resemble a circle,
stuck in a never-ending loop of occurrences, in a world where time would never cease to exist.
I also think I could picture a star,
its luminosity having the ability to be the angel's awakening light on an hushed night, that's how I wish we were, radiant and extraordinary.
Well, I've never thought of a heart, that would lead us to unspeakable perfection.
We were broken, half loved, half in regret, with barely anything to offer, we were like paper being scribbled on,
close to the definition of imperfect.
But it took me moments uncountable to realise that we were a mere line,
two ends of it, bound to corners unknown, destined to never meet,
if only we could join ourselves into something that carried worth,
if only.
