The Fault in Our Stars

I could see you each day, talk to you for hours.
I could see you smile, forget all worries and smile along.
How was I supposed to know what time had planned for us?
How was I supposed to know that our days were numbered?

I could find reasons to smile even in grief, for you.
I could pause chores just to walk in silence with you.
How was I meant to believe that our time was up?
How was I meant to believe that everything had to stop?

The twist of fate, the increasing variance.
The test of apprehension, the verge of caving in.
The maze of illusions, the change of thoughts.
The diversion of paths, the banishment of trust.

We could never get back the way we were.
We could never walk along down the lane.
May be, our fates had been netted in a war.
May be, the scars had been left ajar.

May be, our stars didn't long for us to be 'us'.
May be, our stars couldn't fathom into constellations.
May be, our stars had feasible paths chosen for you and I.
May be, the stars are yours' and mine; not ours'.

May be, there was no flaw in what we were.
May be, there was no flaw in what we did.
May be, there was a flaw in acknowledging the pattern.
May be, there was some, if not many, fault in OUR stars.