Starry nights remind me of those time we stay up all night waiting for shooting stars to weave our dreams with.
Those times when your love is unceasingly flowing like the river and that holding hands seem the only thing that matters in this world.
Those were perfect moments I thought would last.
But then Van Gogh must be right to paint the stars with shades of blue and gray for you have left me with tears and broken promises.
And I will forever wonder if wishes under shooting stars do really come true.


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