Starlight is Only the Reflection from Stars that Died Light-years Ago

Everyone notices shadow
Very few notice light.
Shadows were what light probably came up with
So people would love what it did.

Because light, na...
Light is the Indian Wedding in the form of energy
There's always something to complain about.
You screw up your eyes when there's too much
You squint when there's too little

YOU, though.
You wear dark glasses
Till it's too dark outside
To see the depths they hide
Till you're steeped in shadow
And what lies beneath, we'll never know
You're like light...
You've seen everything you need now
From the safety of your shadow.
You've traversed the depths
And as you sit there
In the light you like
The time reserved for postmortem starlight
You make mirrors out of all of us
In a strange defiant salute to physics

Your light
Calls to our light
And your solar-powered persona
Crafts planets out of us
Orbiting your sun
And we feel it

That slight buzz of energy
Rocket fuel to the personality

But nobody notices
The increasing grey
The deepening shadow
Night falling behind shadowed eyes
Because we're too busy shielding our eyes
Against the light.

Narrative

You see & I see
Almost exactly the same things
What could be, or may be
But we’re never in sync
You’re half full, I’m empty
And neither of us wins
You say & I say
We see such different things.

What you saw, I missed out
I looked the other way
And by the time you turned around
My frame had already changed.
But this was your world and mine
Not a worldwide release
That you & I saw differently
Was an issue for you and me.
Your truth & mine
No longer what we meant it for
A connection for two
Not a skype call with the world

The world knows what they see
A unit despite disparity
You & I separated
From the common story.
What they read into me
And what they read into you
So different from what we know
So different from our truth.

But who can keep the world away
When they’ve picked their sides?
Now it’s about who saw it right
And picked the winning guy
You saw what I saw
For the first time, aligned
What absolutely could not be
No two ways around this time.
Both glasses half empty
A part empties away
As the world counts their winnings
And our story fades away.

Bribes

It was another one of the same old drills; sit just so, move just so, hands like this, head like this, smile prettily, now, they mustn’t think you’re rude! He dared to look around the room, aghast at his own audacity to lift his eyes. They mustn’t see him; they wouldn’t give him what he wanted, if they did. Most days, he only let them poke and prod and parade for what was waiting for him upstairs. It was all worth it, once – he had let himself slip. A sharp jab at the base of his spine reminded him of his realities.

He managed.
The evening was over.
Up they went; he never travelled anywhere without his escorts, and much as he hated it, he was used to it now, and didn’t bother. As he was let into his quarters, and the door clicked shut behind him, he lifted his eyes to the reproachful figures he faced.
“You sold out!”
“You didn’t even try…”
“I told you we shouldn’t be relying on this one.”
“Pah!”

They followed him as he turned away and walked to where he really wanted to be. Taunts kept flowing; he had failed, he had submitted, he should repent… But he was used to it. As he drew close to his little desk, he started to feel something akin to panic. He couldn’t see it. It wasn’t there.
He looked around, hoping they hadn’t done what he thought they had.
The room was bare.
They’d tricked him.
It had all been a trick.

One by one the voices fell silent. One by one, they cackled as he absorbed them within his rage; eyes obscured by red as his brain fell silent, letting the pandemonium continue. But it wasn’t chaos anymore, it was structured. There was only one thing they all wanted and they were going to get it.

The door was no match for the anger of a being denied. As he burst through, he heard voices echoing behind him.
“I told you it was a bad idea!”
“Who screwed up?”
“Come back here!”

Nothing worked.

The gathering he had just run away from was still in full swing.
Nobody noticed the small rage-filled figure standing in the doorway till he threw back his head and let rip a wail that would awaken the dead.

The muted, tasteful music was no match for the little boy in his pyjamas. The chattering crowd came to a grinding halt, shooting glances at the mortified parents, embarrassed for them, but unsure how to help.

The flustered parents rushed to the tiny, wailing figure, attempting to pick him up and isolate the problem the best they could. He wailed, he flailed, he didn’t need words. As his parents picked him up and rushed him out of the room, he heard them hissing at his nanny “We told you to keep track of ONE thing…”

It had worked.

Minutes later, he was quiet, and the nanny was looking at another job.

His parents back in the midst of company smiled apologetically “He just can’t do without us, poor lamb. Needs his bedtime story.”

He smiled where he sat, back in his room, his little bowl in front of him, happily licking his spoon clean, his demons snoozing quietly around him.
“Bedtime story? I’d choose chartreuse every time.”

Prompt: I’d choose chartreuse every time