Here I am sitting,
on the soft grass,
with the summer breeze,
softly blowing.

I stare into the sparkling sky,
Dusted with stars.
But can't help feeling,
old memories of you.
Memories I have pushed,
to the back of head.
As I stare into space.

Though it was a long time ago,
I still remember all the times,
we have spent on this hill,
watching the stars,
as they twinkle and spark.
Every night.

You used to sit here all the time,
Making me laugh,
with your goofy attitude,
Chasing away my fears,
and tears.

Remember when you nicknamed me,
as star girl.
For my love of night and space.

You promised me that,
whenever I am troubled,
I can always come here,
and you will be there.

But you aren't here,
though you promised,
that you will be with me forever.

Have forgotten me,
did you even care.

Or have you found someone else,

to love in heaven's gate.

But remember,
on your funeral's day,
the stars were so bright and clear
Does that mean you can still,
Hear my prays.
Maybe it meant that,
when I die,
we can go watch the stars together
Again on this hill top,
And nothing will ever stop us.
And we will finally be together.
Or was it just another coincidence

you leave has such a burden,
in my heart.
But your passing to me,
Is still lingering,
From reality to illusion,
Cause sometimes,
I still wait for you,
In our school's front door,
Still believing you will be there.

Your presence,
is still lingering,
And it haunts me so.
Maybe it's because of,
your promise to stay,
with me forever,
or do I just miss you too much,
that I am seeing glimpses of you.

Sometimes,
I feel like I am going insane,
with images of you,
flashing before my eyes.

Sometimes,
I wished that I have never met you
But how can I say that,
You were the one,
Who led me to the light,
And away from my fright.

It has been a while,
since I had visited your grave,
because I don't want,
to reopen my wound again.
But tonight,
some how,
I feel the urge to,
Visit you.

The cemetery is so peaceful,
so serene yet somewhat cold.

You must be lonely;
your grave is covered with cobwebs
how painful must it be,
to be six feet under.

All of the other graves
are decorated,
with gorgeous flowers,
Except for yours.

So here's a dozen,
White roses for you.