Wish on Falling Stars
Teach me
how to think
when thought is fog—
when your absence
fills in the blanks.
Say something
that doesn’t crack
at the edges.
I’m still
waiting
to believe you.
Was this care,
or just a hand
testing the shape
of control?
You held the whole sky—
I offered mine.
Still,
you vanished
like breath in winter.
I miss you
in the way
empty chairs hold weight—
not the person,
but the space.
I still cast
my wishes upward,
toward breaking stars.
They burn for a second,
then forget.
I cry,
but not always for you.
Just for what
could’ve
been.
Copyright © Sarah Moncada | Year Posted 2008
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