Solar Eclipse
We were never meant to meet.
across dawn and dusk skies;
oh the light we made.
Every star a poem for you,
my scattered map of love.
And you, turning the horizon aflame,
heart sending out a flare,
gold furnace of desire.
Is this the closest we get?
April evening, pink blush on my face,
Venus in the wings.
One blink and darkness winks.
I close my eyes: it seems
we almost touch -
silver and gold
monumental moment
dissolving
into
translucence.
Sun-blindness
is a real thing.
As for the moon? You knew
I was half mirage, a shimmering dissonance
of dream and romance.
We can't ever meet.
The astrophysical axis
commands it so. In other words, Fate.
Too many shadows.
Too much afterglow.
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