-shooting star

I found myself very comfortable in the warmth arrogance tends to provide, thinking I was this shooting star she was forgetting to wish upon; such a melancholy metaphor appropriately missing the beauty in some debris having one last go through the atmosphere; perhaps for no other reason than to give us a few seconds to believe in something more than ourselves    
 
that’s how I felt last night when she smiled at me with more life than the cries of a thousand newborns on their third breath, as if it kept the same hope we’ve all held on to when we’d see what was once thought to be a dying star streaking across the sky; it was in that moment I realized I was the one who better not forget to make a wish...    
   
-ed