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They were way smarter than me.
Or maybe just… older in the soul.
I said it like confession,
and someone asked
Why? What happened?

I told them,
They beat me in my own game.

What game?
they said.

The game of life.
And I stood there,
puzzled by my own answer
because I didn’t understand it either.
Not fully.
Not then.

It was something deep.
Something beneath language,
beneath thought,
beneath bone.

They asked me again
What is it, man? What changed you?

I said quiet, almost whisper,
I liked her.

Who?

Alien girl.
Yes, strange to the world,
beautiful to my chaos,
eyes like oceans that didn’t belong to Earth.

Which alien girl? they pushed.

The one with blue eyes.
The one who made galaxies feel small.
The one I tried to describe,
but every word felt too human for her.

She couldn’t stay.
I knew it
before she said it.

Why? they asked,
as if there was an answer simple enough.

Her family said
we are infected from inside.
Not with disease , no.
But with longing, with wanting, with hunger.
Infected with greed.

And maybe they were right.
Maybe we take more than we give,
hold tighter than we release,
love like possession
instead of prayer.

But my love for her…
wasn’t greed.
It was surrender.
It was quiet.
It was real.

She understood.
But her family didn’t.
Couldn’t.
And so one night
she left like a dream evaporating with dawn.

Now the stars look different.
Like missing punctuation.
Like a sentence unfinished.
Like a love poem
someone forgot to finish.

And sometimes,
when the night is soft,
I still feel those blue eyes
reading my soul like scripture
and I whisper to the darkness,

I wasn’t trying to own you.
I was trying to love you.

But galaxies don’t stay for gravity,
and angels don’t kneel for men.

So I stand here
infected world, empty hands
telling a story only the moon believes.