It’s not my fault

I am the sun.

You chose to be the moon,

eclipsed by my whole truth.

You felt blinded by me—

but maybe you just weren’t used to women

who refused to fade

when you were around.

I didn’t ask to be worshipped.

Just witnessed.

Just loved in the light

without you reaching for the switch.

But you—

you wanted flow without glare.

Warmth without fire.

You wanted me soft and dusk-colored,

half-hidden,