Thinking

Thinking. Can't stop thinking.
Think of you. This. That. That Life. That day.
That dream was mine.
A utopian dream.

Your aura; struck me like lightning to a tree.
Pointy, like a star, you shone.
So bright, yet not shining as a star would,
But as apparent as white chalk on a blackboard.
You would not show off like a star.
Yet you did burn so hot, so fiercely, so explosively -
you were a star in my eyes.

But like all stars, you died.
That gas was gone.
No pull between us.
The atmosphere was dry
and I began to choke.
I was taken from my star - like a child being taken from its poor,
drunken mother - I did not know what was happening.
Dazed. Confused. Without true reality, I there sat.
Wondering.

The end of my world had only just begun, with yours beginning.