There above blameless clouds and a sluggish silvery night line is an ivory pearl ruling like royalty in an unforgiving sky. In it are innocent stars accused of passionate crimes that are bridged together like a crucifix overlaying the night. The once powerful now defenseless lights are mourning their very own glow that fades away like compliments. They are fully vulnerable as sitting ducks waiting in the welkin.
These heavenly bodied creatures confined to grey areas and hummingbird grey lines are judged by a non-material heaven. When did the sky become similar to a prison, a jailhouse without bars, the slammer for stars? My guess is It started with the imbalanced moon's tall tale of what could have been. Her words traveled faster than a Halley's Comet going to and from every planet leaving bits and pieces of itself. Just imagine being that high from being high, and still, her highness falls for the stars. Those sparkly poetic gems, beautiful Asian flowers, orchids of the night. Only they are alluring enough to sweep the moon off her feet while the rest of Milky Way collapses at it.
It is unfair these up right things that bless the twilight are birthed in a moment they can't outrun, and still, they bolt through a sightless journey as they are chased by a galaxy of everything from satellites to black holes, but mostly what the scorned moon feels. If only they were shooting stars quick enough to escape from the crescent moon's mood swings and her Luna Eclipse of roller coaster rides So ludicrous you swear it was a dream or maybe some sort of nightmare.
Perhaps the celestial moon was never taught love is not a stranger to some but to most and that stars are not gods, but poets. And each night they spit a fine tune poem to the retro sky about how unsafe space feels in the dark and how there are no good nights there. Just empty goodbyes and as for the Royal Moon she got exactly what she wanted and it is for the precious stars to feels just as damaged as she is.