Shooting stars? O spare me
Dying planets like our own and their light already spent
When they deem to grace our eyes

Call me uncouth
But I too have crossed the tropic of jealousy
With desire that no moon can purge

As if love was ever selfless
And a just and gentle god shone his countenance
On our failing hearts’ travails

Leave him to tend his heaven
And align his stars and know that humble human
Love is what you’re up against