Burning Stars

I found you leaning over the balcony, gazing into a world that was becoming an illusion to you, smoking a shrinking cigarette. I never know you smoked, but I suppose that everyone surprises the world with what it seems they'd never do. Your eyes burnt like coals, staring until everything before you smoldered to dullness, the intensity of your gaze could burn down any hopeful living thing to an ashen pile of decay. Your disillusionment brought you here, guided by the optimistic notion that the other side of the garden bears riper fruit. You traveled here with weary eyes, your hope diminished to find the same dust of your native dystopia lingering on the bottom of your shoe. I could feel you burning fron here, your sweat glistening face lit by the cigarette flame and moonlight, your shoulder tensed by the touch of my hand as you said to me, How the stars seemed so close, glowing together seeming mere inces apart in the sky. But they were oblivious of eachother, as they burnt unmindfully billions of miles away. I stood by you feeling the refreshing bitterness, of the cooling Autumn air, oh, how we stood inches apart, you and I, and had since grown billions of miles away...