before the Moon eclipsed the Sun's light
she used to build castles in the sky
out of wishful thinking, leaning close enough
to the Sun for her eyelashes to singe;
she didn't care.

his flame imprinted on her corneas
as smoke smoldered in her mouth
and she loved it.

but when his gravity lured her in
and she shadowed his glow,

he shoved her back in the graveyard night,
propped against stars and pinned alongside
lost space shuttles and burnt-out comets.

now the Sun dusts the Moon's eyes
in twilight ashes, hoping his embers
singe her retinas before they see
past the pyre and into the inferno.

but while he's charring craters in her skin,
he doesn't think of the phoenix blood
pumping through her veins.

he never thought she'd re-emerge
from her ashes, ready his flame
with her own.