moon love

Is he the sun that enlightens my world, or am I the darkened moon that dulled his dreamworld? I sucked up the light he generously served me as my hunger for more was outrageous, knowing forgiveness would emanate. In explicit language we abhor the moon ascribing the darkness to it for epochs, having no superficial knowledge that I am the cause we happened to be, sun and moon, bride and groom, space is our ballroom, it seems out of tune but of dense because it’s a bond of intense where stars are our offsprings, swaying their butts on swings. Day and night, the contradiction of all the times, always coupled up kissing to generate the hot electricity the human's sake.