Tragedy Through Defiance.

    Specifically I meant the weight of our words have caused an avalanche to collapse between the thinnest layer of trust we used to lure such a canvas together. Realistically it seems the purpose of taking gentle steps on the surface of bordered moons, is to remain in contact with the weight of gravity, yet as of lately I feel pinned down. Has it been the passing of lunar eclipses slightly blinding our vision from what it is we seek possible in the stars, or the yearning for something more.
     Sudden sunsets prosper the winter skies planning a welcoming embrace towards us, with a warning as subtle as a kiss on the cheek from the person who matters more than the air surrounding stained lungs. Realizing the ambitious nature of rising terrors sinking into thoughts deeper than pebbles thrown into moving waters, nothing truly matters. The failing life of a shooting star Is not in the memory of the morning, it showers warmth across the night as a gift of light only the sun would be jealous of.
    The failing life of a shooting star marks the beginning of an effort to release beauty in the world through death, tragedy through defiance. Simple pleasures at a distance we shared within moments as this, under stars wrapped around a page we began to read. Bound by the toxins of reality, this dream has suffocated the last amount of possibilities we had to believe.