I slept in a Solar Eclipse.
I looked for the Sun which had set when I woke up;
The Moon had taken my sheets with her,
And used her razor sharp words to cut out the word ‘traitor’.
As torturous as labelling a runaway bride,
Who held nothing but love in both hands-
With right she healed her wounds that don’t patch,
And left for cremating the ghosts of her eclipsed past.
I love the October heat, I love the blues,
That can burn my iris but I love the hues.
When the sky turns pink, I am pink too,
Since these evenings are followed by you.
Don’t be startled, don’t call me a traitor,
I only climbed the Sun today to have a glimpse of you.
But I read the other day that you left once again,
Saving face from the tides of my life as they paint me blue.
I would have never slept in an eclipse-
If I didn’t see me in your darkness,
That sparkled like a diamond ring.
They shut their eyes at my melancholy and label it a sin.
If our words fall in the graveyard of stars when the world dies,
In every Eclipse, for once, I hope these stars align;
As I mark a legacy, I write a poem for you.
You were a runaway bride so I became one too.