In time exists two.
One grasping onto nihilism with a hint of optimism.
Seemingly swirling in pretty colors of obsidian black
Like the night sky before the beginning of the shining gold flecks, hinting at the swell of the sun
A conflict within himself, but pretty all the same
A reminder of the sunrises that time somehow withdraws
The other drenched in the warmth the sun brings when it arises
Sleepy drunk under it's wasted time of being away.
Soft with wholesome colors that hug
She reminds of the barely orange colors that drip in slow and steady and hold you mounted to your feet as you behold the sun's beauty
She is the warmth of the barely rising sun
While he is the moments before in the bright black abyss