As the brilliant sun plummets gradually into the dark night

The abundance of aspiration is blight

Her reveries infrequent, sporadic, a humdrum,

Her porspect dwindles to some

Some feeling of turning cold, turning numb

The unreciprocated sensation is excruciating, escalating, with no end

If their demise she could transcend, suspend, she would with anything but

A moment’s indecisiveness, w/o the blink of an eye

Save them both froma vitality, a reality rather grim, 

Lighten the standpoint that only grows more dim

But alas, our stars were to cross in that particular fashion.

Later she couldn’t even imagine

What could’ve happened, what could’ve been

The blazing sun must set to the horizon and below,

And now she’ll never know

Exaclty how it would go

As the stars lit up the sky, no longer filled with light, no more day,

And she must put her fantasy away, to rest

And they’ll never have a clue, nobody could ever outdo her best.

Too late. If she were to hear, it’d become a mere jest.

But that’s the way it goes, I guess.