They called me something I was not.
Something was a speculation, a misperception.
It was either a relief or an escape,
But it was a burden I cannot bear.
I was human enough in amplifying emotions,
I too generated inappropriate feelings.
Words are my best friends, but just like you,
They get upset too.
At that point, they get bitter-coated and I vomit.
I love you, so I vomit on you.
I consider you to be mine more than you are for yourself.
You are the Empress to my empire and we are Taj Mahal.
I won’t let any pollution make us yellow.
We are the auroras. You are ultraviolet;
Standing against the current and galactic,
Conquering planets and solar systems.
I am standing red at high attitudes,
Frozen crimson and a blood stained curtain.
I am not as pure as you are.
I have scarlet and carmine mixed in me
While you are not even in the optical window.
You dance on Mars and Jupiter,
Swinging on the rings of Saturn.
While I am just a sensitive wavelength in the intense solar activity.
You are a dream which came true and I promise I am not an illusion.
I am the missing words you left spaces for in your diary.
– Shantam Sahai
