Arcane

 The moon always so full of himself, but when was that ever a bad thing.

Waxing and waning , disappearing for his own selfish reasons, looking to impress no one but himself

or so it seems. 

Moon makes nostalgic company.

Night conversations, where he confides of the grief he feels. He mourns the glory of Sun.

Only stealing bits of rays to experience a kiss, a touch of her light, her fire.

And i tell him of you. How you make my soul feel alive, sharing in each others light.