Shooting Stars

I wonder,

Would you feel my lips grazing yours,

If I dream of you at night

Would you hear muffled voices in your ears,

If I whisper your name to the zephyr-

Like a saint chanting in reverence?

Would a chill slither down your spine,

If I wrap your smell in blotches of ink-

On the pages of my notebook-

Like a perfumier of old, capturing petrichor?

Would your skin glow in iridescence,

If I smear my canvas in crimson-

With a tinge of magenta along the crevices.

Lady,won't you come here and save me?

Before I tear myself apart,

Like a paperplane on fire.

Shooting across, your personal falling star,

Diving into the abyss,

Like a liar.