Wounded

Neha Bhatia

You caught me in your arms,

when I fell from the moon.

Wounded, I looked in your eyes,

you told me, that I’ll be healed soon.

 

You touched my wound with your love,

I screamed out in pain.

I trembled, I beat my chest, 

there were cracks in each vein.

 

Tears of blood rained through my eyes,

but you kept dressing my wounds,

my wounds, 

shivering in strain.

 

The day the dressing was over,

and you were about to leave,

I asked you to stay,

I tugged at your sleeve.

 

You didn’t stop, you kept walking,

Why? I couldn’t believe.

 

Running after you I reached the desert,

hot baked plains of sand, my wound bleeding.

The more I ran after you,

the more you were speeding.

 

It was a dark starry night, 

when I reached the oasis.

I cupped my palms into the water,

When I saw your reflection, my heart ran at aces.  

 

It’s over a million years,

my heartbeats are still asking,

 

Why did you lie to me?

 

Why didn’t you tell me,

that you’re wounded,

too?


Leave a comment