Of no particular stars
I go by two names
And I write with two hearts
We'll go to sleep a bit late
On opposite sides of the city
The same sort of songs
Waltzing into our ears
I'll be aimless for a while
And might begin to cry
Because the nostalgia gets nasty
When one stares at the sky
And I'm laying on a pier
In the middle of nowhere
Picking out my favorite star
And wishing on it
My imagination can pencil you in
Beside me, where wanderlust begins
But I look at you and see the same stars
I feel the same feelings in my thumping heart
So I'm writing two things
Into one poem,
I think of the nickname you gave me,
How it resembles absolutely nothing
Everything means so much
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