She thought he had a pocketful of stars. The opalescent wishing light of a thousand summer nights ready to spill enough for her great heart. That's why she took his hand and held it with her own when she had vowed to never touch a soul again.
She thought he had a pocketful of stars. She thought he carried a million shimmering hopes bound in light, enough for her big dreams. That's why she kissed his mouth and let his voice draw her song when she swore she would never sing again.
She thought he had a pocketful of stars. She thought he had enough glow to paint over her many wounds and heal her so she could fight again. That's why she let him run his fingers through her hair, she thought he would leave particles of light and not the pain he planted there.
She thought he had a pocketful of stars.
That was why she left her blade behind.
She thought he had a pocketful of stars to guide them home again but all he had was darkness and now she had to fight, bare handed wild woman just looking for some light.
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