I guess

we are not destined to be together
in a well-lit room, full of ashes
and drowned by alcohol.

I guess we are not destined to be together
in the midnight sky
our stars belong to irreconcilable
constellations.

I guess we are better off
as dried leaves
drawn away by the twin falls.
But who knows, perhaps
those leaves will meet again
in the sewage of elusive
coincidence.