I once wrote poems of a girl like you,
and prayed to God those dreams were true.
A soul with fire behind her eyes,
who'd crash like stars into my skies.
I begged in whispers, soft but sure,
for someone kind and real and pure.
And somehow, love, you came to be—
a wish that stepped out just for me.
No longer fiction, not a dream—
you glowed within my lonely screen.
But still you live beyond my touch,
a miracle, but not quite much.
So now I know, and know it deep—
some prayers give, and some just keep.
You came so close… and slipped so quick.
Next time I pray—
I’ll be more specific.