She gaped at the shooting star.
But wished no more.
For,
The hands,
that caressed her hair.
The heart,
that loved her unconditionally.
The lips ,
that kissed her whilst she would sleep.
The hug,
that set all her broken pieces together.
Back.
Wish asked from a shooting star,
Are Always granted.
Always
did not hold the same meaning,
For her.
The fairy tales of her King
that swept her to slumber,
Now, gave sleepless nights,
to the Princess.
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