Well-Wishes of the Stars

even in my dreams
we always
almost kiss, as if
unconsciously,
celestially,
we were not
meant to be,
even
in the realm of
the Sandman,
you never
reach out for me,
instead
my hands
hold your sturdy
shoulders gently,
you could
have been so
majestic, darling,
chasing great things,
believing
in all and anything,
after this,
do not look for me
in your memories,
or your dreams,
apparently,
divinely,
we were
not meant to be,
though you did
often kiss me,
and your hands
held my small arms
firmly,
we have no astral
blessing,
or perhaps
those well-wishes
of the stars,
are fanfares
of inevitable partings.