As the brilliant sun plummets gradually into the dark night
The abundance of aspiration is blight
Her reveries infrequent, sporadic, a humdrum,
Her porspect dwindles to some
Some feeling of turning cold, turning numb
The unreciprocated sensation is excruciating, escalating, with no end
If their demise she could transcend, suspend, she would with anything but
A moment’s indecisiveness, w/o the blink of an eye
Save them both froma vitality, a reality rather grim,
Lighten the standpoint that only grows more dim
But alas, our stars were to cross in that particular fashion.
Later she couldn’t even imagine
What could’ve happened, what could’ve been
The blazing sun must set to the horizon and below,
And now she’ll never know
Exaclty how it would go
As the stars lit up the sky, no longer filled with light, no more day,
And she must put her fantasy away, to rest
And they’ll never have a clue, nobody could ever outdo her best.
Too late. If she were to hear, it’d become a mere jest.
But that’s the way it goes, I guess.