Shooting Stars

You and I,

we’re like shooting stars,

flying a million miles an hour,

towards God knows what.

And we burn, and burn,

until we crash.

We crash into each other,

and we’re broken, and scared,

hard to recognize,

hard to remember where we came from.

And yet, it feels right.

I would crash into you a thousand times,

even if it meant I had to watch myself burn.

I think,

you and I were meant to shoot through the sky together.

To where? Who knows,

but I’d fly through all the galaxies,

if you stayed by my side.



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