Balance

The sun has set in the palm of my hand
And with this fall I catch her golden corpse
Light escapes between the cracks of my fingers
Casting a shadow against the earth at my feet

The other holds the queen of night
She scoffs at the stars for distracting the eyes of lovers
And laughs wickedly at her sister's crimson sacrifice
Her cream vessel glows against the black curtained horizon

I mourn for her, my beloved Stella
With her death she has taken the warmth of summer, the beauty of spring
The light of her eyes kept the monsters at bay
Now they roam the lands as though this were their Hades

In the vacant throne sits the lunar majesty
She can offer no warmth, no sense of reprieve
She only promises nightmares, undiluted and raw with terror
And tips her blackened glass in a mock toast

I deny myself of that sickening wine, that burning temptation
And instead keep guard of my Stella's dimming shell
For this is the balance, the centripetal motion of days
Of angels birthing demons, of an eternal sibling rivalry