To every girl who wants
with Bottled Hope held to the skies,
You’re foolish, so foolish;
an imploration… for Infeasibility.
Your T’s are star-crossed--
the dots are hearts.
There’s constellations
in your Chin-up Eyes.
[The story got lost,
Optimism failed;
the paper’s white,
and He has bailed.]
I guess she forgot
(there's no lovers in the sky!)
But mere reminders
of Dying Faith first Pausing,
now Passing By.