The Cost of a Wish

Hope is a trick of the light—

you chase what glimmers,

only to find it fading in your hands.

You crave what you lack,

and the moment you have it,

your hunger shifts.

Desire is a moving target—

you’re always aiming at ghosts.

Even when dreams unfold,

they feel borrowed.

And suddenly,

you miss the past

for what you pretend it was.

I wish I didn’t wish at all.

Because when it came true—

it didn’t feel like mine.