a year full of life

my [almost] wish on a shooting star

her fingers tangled with his [smooth and sure yet hesitant and sweet], scratching lightly against the rough concrete of their rooftop as hesitancy turned into something determined. if people had the ability to take one picture with their eyes, not distorted by a lens [completely whole and full, just as any moment should be], then this would be theirs. if people had one wish to stay in a moment forever [innocent and pure, aching with love from the depths of their bodies], this would be theirs. if people could choose one person to love for the rest of their lives [with the guarantee that even through it all, they'd love each other more and more], they would be each other's.

i wish i could take a photograph of /our/ moment [just like theirs], limbs wrapped tightly, clutching one another in desperation [or maybe that was just me] but i'm not sure that it was even real [and if it was i don't think our moments' would be the same, neither would our love] so even if i could, i'm too afraid to look out the window [too afraid that maybe i'd see a shooting star].