throwing rocks over the moon

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i haven't seen a sunset in a while, whether it for a lack of trying or the sky's hues burning out completely, i'm not sure [or at least i choose to not be sure].

i know i promised you i wouldn't stop looking for them when you left but the memory of sitting there with you, smiles pressed onto our lips, watching the sky burn up into silence, and throwing rocks with wishes over the moon made those fires in the atmosphere pull the tides over my eyes.

some nights i close my eyes at six hoping to fall asleep before the clock strikes eight-thirty [these nights were filled with more tides and deep circles imprinted under my eyes at the sun's arrival].

other nights i pull the curtains tight and turn off all the lights, pretending there had never been daylight at all - on those nights i ask myself the same question you asked me everytime we saw a shooting star: do you think if you died right now you might become an angel?

i never ended up answering that specific question, i felt the confrontation of my own character too much to bare when your own was so blinding that the answer was so very clear to me whether or not you'd become an angel [i mean, you were already one walking the earth].

but now i think that it isn't so much a question of whether i was a good person or not, rather am i a good enough person to make selfless sacrifices on a whim?

i think, in that case, i might just make the cut some day, though i'm afraid that if i was an angel i would've fallen long ago - is that what makes up the shooting stars that fill the night sky that we held each other under every sunset until you had to leave? because if it was i hope to live to be an angel and survive long enough to become a shooting star [even if that means burning up far too fast through the sky and leaving you with a reminder of the one you loved and had to loose]

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