You are a shooting star;
but maybe, I have only heard of such a thing.
I have never seen one, not even from afar.
To my mind, you are just a dream.
We all learn from our pasts.
History seems to always come back around,
telling us that nothing good ever really lasts.
To our yesterdays we are bound.
A star you may be, but to my mind you are just a mystery.
My history of sadness will hide all of your beauty, because my past reminds me that nothing this beautiful can ever last.
So, I close my eyes and I will dream of you,
and know that one day, I will think of you and be blue.