i am a girl
and he is a star
and there are so, so many girls just like me
that it seems very silly to want him.

i am a fan, in love with his voice:
with the curls of his hair:
with the gentle dips of his smile and the uproarious sound of his laugh:
i am a fan, but i am one of so many thousands
that it would be silly to dream about him.

he is a star, crash-landed on earth,
galactic-bright grin and planet-colored eyes,
so many personalities that he slips
in and out of every one
like they're clothes, like a game, like they're breathing--
and i could never know all or any of them
but that doesn't stop me from wanting to.

he is my nebula, flung farther from me
than a string of adorations could cross
in a lifetime, in ten, in ten thousand;
so close, sometimes, when the timing is right
but still more distant than a million twinkling galaxies.

till i find my own brilliant sun
he will shine in my sad-thoughts like a dream;
and they will say, oh, i love him, he's wonderful
i will bite back the heartache he's too good to bear
and i'll say, yes, i know.

he's celestial.

sometimes your eyes are like planets,
wide and round with wonder.
a look into them shows the worlds that orbit in your mind
and the stars that swirl in your chest.
you're forever as young
as seventeen revolutions around the sun,
but your wonder has already been enough
to send you to the stars.
you've flown lightyears
enough to listen to the echoes
of time and memory contained in space dust,
you've made these sounds your songs.
you've commanded shooting stars
and hung from them,
swinging from tail to tail to get to the moon
and believe me, from my windowsill,
i can see you've made it when your moonlight shines on me.
now that you are up there,
i hope you like the view,
at night, i'll always look outside
just to admire you.

She gave him with her cold elvish crystal hands,

a bottle of starlight,

that will protect him from the evil outside and it's poisoning blackness,

for it will show him that there will always be light in his life.

He gave her with his warm, ***** and damaged humanly hands,

a pearl from a shell, from its wavey sea,

of which men have traveled upon for many years.

It will remind her of what a man can give when having a clean and kind soul.

Till this day she has the pearl,

and it makes her smile,

every time when she sees it,

as if,

a human and an elf were meant to be,

a mortal with an immortal.