He was like the night, she the day.
She was bright and chirpy, creating the warmth of joy and bringing laughter into their souls.
He was quiet and reserved, he brought peoples passion out, their most intimate thoughts.
When they were together, they shone bright like the golden hour. Almost blinding. Dancing in the sunlight.
Everyone thought they were perfect, they thought so as well. Opposites attract they say, but you couldn't have golden hour forever.
He was the type to tuck his precious in a cupboard like your mothers fine china, only bringing it out on special occasions and looking back on it. Always knowing it was there. He wanted it to be as new as the day he got it, as bright as the first time he set eyes on it. He wanted to protect it from the usages of everyday.
She was the type to wear it on her sleeves. Like a child excited to play with a new toy. Dragging it through the dirt, sharing it with everyone but never letting it go because it was her favourite. It could've been worn and torn and changed from decades of use, but she says that's what "gave it character".
They were the sun and moon themselves but they became suffocated in the rays, in each other's arms. Their feet blistered, their breathes were beginning to uneven. They would dance until the sun set, but it would never come. They felt confident that they wanted the same thing. They wanted each other, but you couldn't have golden hour forever.
