Is she out there?

My shooting star? The one who will paint my nights pink and gold and teal,

and every shade of blue?

Is she out there?

My other half, the one who gets me, and who I can't help but tell all my secrets to.

Is she out there?

My best friend, who'll endure the worst of me,

and sing along,

while I play bad guitar?

Is she out there?

My perfect compliment, who’ll open new dimensions, and gently kiss my many scars.

The clock is ticking.

And the shape of me is damaged,

and raw,

and grey.

I'm a catch only,

in friendly light.

And I ache from wanting.

Is my hope futile?

Should I stop sending wishes,

into this cloudy night?

Maybe so.

But before I go,

There’s only one thing I have to do.

Release my balloon

into

the

empty

sky

And hope upon a lonely star,

That she does too.