shooting stars .

a forced smile upon her lips, she watches the world for what it really is. it spins around in the perfect pace that allows her to observe, but not understand. contact, but not linger. touch, but not possess.

on the other side of the broken track, his gravitation pulls at the world in a completely different way. she watches through a one sided mirror as he reaches for the things he will eventually obtain. he stretches the walls and fumbles with the lights until everything in his world is a work in progress that can never achieve perfection, if only for the sake of more progression.

she envies his green grass and white pickett fence although she knows that the darkness encompasses ideas far beyond her imagination, and watches, remembering what it was like to be a part of his world.

he looks into the mirror and forgets her intoxication, immersing himself in building his world so imperfections will no longer surface yet perfections could never arise.

the stars align and the mirror breaks. the sun disappears and the ground beneath them shakes. and in a striking moment of clarity all the gravity shifts away. so that when another person is in the centre of your universe you can’t help but circle.

yet he doesn’t pull her closer and she doesn’t reel him in. they just watch each other in confusion, hesitation.

until a comet flies in and breaks their path and they move into their own worlds once again.

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  1. Above everything else I appreciate making room for alternatives, even though these are not perfectly tailored on your frame of mind and action.

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