Stars

I sit and watch,
As the dark heaven is lit up with little white flies,
That began to twinkle,
As the friendly yellow crescent,
Find its way into the night sky,

And I wonder,
Where it all went wrong,
And that maybe I was just weak,
Too weak to love you the right way.

I think to myself,
As I sit and feel the burning beginning to,
Tear me up from inside my chest,
And realize that maybe,
Just maybe, if I had tried a little harder,
That it would be your hand that I’m holding,
Instead of the cold, lifeless air curled within my fist.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked,
Or maybe I shouldn’t have bothered at all,
But the difference in the end,
Is that I could be staring into your eyes,
And not these tiny little stars,
Which are just little, tiny sphere-like things of plasma.