Moonstruck (Poetry)

We were a threesome — you, the moon and I —
your passion fixed upon her changing face
while I, your constant satellite, stood by
eclipsed from view, my gravity displaced.

We went through all the phases — you observed
her every aspect, smitten like a fool —
I hung around, my stubbornness absurd
imagining your crush was bound to cool.

But every night you spent out on the tiles
your telescope trained eagerly, I felt
cheated — sensed her pitying, smug smiles
and read the cards I’d been so coldly dealt.

The moon’s the other woman in your life —
her power to ensnare a feeble mind
is legendary — how can a mere wife
compete when stars are cosmically aligned?

I saw the signs but doubt you’ll understand
a goddess could play such a callous trick —
to steal your wits as though the Fates had planned
to turn you to a drooling lunatic!

You while away most nights in moonstruck awe —
I cannot watch — it chills me to the bone
to hear you calling — voice grown wild and raw —
as though her heart is more than ancient stone.