It’s three am,
Your fingers trace galaxies,
On your pillow cover,
In a movement so rhythmic,
It synchronises with your heart beat.
Your eyes have stolen stars from the sky,
And shine brighter in the darkest hour.
Your eyes carry metaphors,
Stolen from Shakespeare’s sonnets.
They hide those words,
You left unsaid.
Your eyes steal the light of the dying sun,
As it loses itself below the horizon.
While you lose yourself in your solitude.
It’s three am.
Your fingers trace galaxies
On your pillow cover,
But little do you know,
Your eyes carry a cosmos of their own.
Written By: Nishma Soni