I don't wish on shooting stars,
They're just balls of light.
Tonight though, looking for Mars
I just might.
We lay here, in each others arms
Listening to the nearby waves
Do we need Goodluck charms
To escape the Graves?
You whisper stories in my ear,
We use the warm breeze as a sheet
But my departure is near
And your presence is sweet.
I made a wish on shooting stars
As they flew just out of reach, and
All of them leaving behind mini scars.
Now I wonder, if you also wished on each.
YOU ARE READING
What I Know to be True
PoetryA collection of poems by a person whom is trying to collect her pieces up off the ground.
