I Wish Upon a Shooting Star

A poem on the death of a loved one

“Never fall in love with stargazers — always with accelerated affection. Their love disappears in the blink of an eye like a shooting star.”
― RSCruz

Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

I wish upon a shooting star
that you might come down to visit me somehow,
as if you don’t live so far,
far, far away in the foreign skies now.

I miss you much and think of you oft —
too oft, to be quite frank —
because you still make my knees weak and my heart soft,
as you fill up my otherwise empty love tank.

You died a slow death,
withering and tithering until your last goodbye,
your last goodbye that used up your last breath,
forcing me down a spiral of woe and misery: I cry.

On restless nights, I feel only sorrow,
as I lie wide awake yet still have dreams—
dreams of you and your promises for tomorrow,
but all tomorrow’s have now faded, or so it seems.

You held me near the night you made your final departure,
but you were too weak to hold on for long,
of…