She was young,
delicate…
Making shattered wishes
on each shooting star,
in hopes of
stopping the desolate.
 
With a heart
so pure, still
believing in magic.
Though her eyes
had witnessed
flagrant acts
from the tragic.
 
Never confusing
A satellite for a star,
she’d memorized
each constellation.
Certain her wishes
must be granted,
by such a
promising creation.
 
 
Dreaming of stardust
falling to earth,
being sprinkled
through fingers like sand.
While the moon
compelled each one
from the sky,
helping those fix what they
could not withstand.
 
 
Deeply haunted with
‘Black-Hole’ memories,
from a mind left
tattered, and jaded.
Until she recognized
stars as merely
balls of gas
 
and all the magic…
                                        finally faded.