Luna and Sol

Daylight tells not of the night,
But gently burns away what came before
Until you can only think about the light
And how it must have been a dream,
Those burdens that you bore.

But the moon, she is a gossip,
With teasing whispers in your ear:
Words that should have passed your lips,
Replaced instead by silent screams
And a divination that all you’ll ever know is fear.