I can't see the sky tonight.

I'd be a star if you held my hand.

The kind that burns like your heart

and especially the kind that twinkles.

That's how they like to describe eyes,

but mine are usually called bright

because low light never stopped me from laughing 

and high looks never stopped me from crying.

Lace your fingers between mine and we can walk in a galaxy 

and make promises to the small, small people who smile at the sky.

They smile even after they've given up Love

because they smile at her sister.

They tell me it's because

Hope said "always"

when Love said "maybe"

and I guess that's why Love pulls away

while Hope holds tight.

Her hands are softer, anyway.

--Erin