For Her

[ellajam]

Hi, welcome to the site. It may be that I don't get some of your allusions, but no matter how many times I read this I feel like its meaning is beyond me, I can't put it all together. But still, I'll offer the thoughts I do have about it.
First, I'd like to ask you about the capitalization of each line. I saw you offered in your own critique to someone else something along the lines of it being a stylistic choice and don't let anyone talk you out of what is right for the poem. I'm curious about why you made this choice because for me I might have had an easier time following this without it, I'm interested to know what you think it adds.
Through much of this the meter, though it sits below the surface, is strong and enjoyable.
Some notes:

She is the Starry Twins, called Gemini, I think the comma after Gemini and the colon below are confusing me from the start.
That shine, are gazed upon:
The human eyes are fixed on them.
Should I pronounce the traits
Inherent in the Gothic gates-
The gargoyles perch and stare I like this and the three lines below.
With crimson, bloodshot eyes-
Behind which is a beating Heart,
A bloody, scarlet, living Heart?
Its veins draw from the heav’ns; Two syllables no matter why you write it, why not heavens? Is the "it" the heart?
Its arteries imbue with life
And purpose this brown sphere,
This ugly mass of dirt,
This egg-shaped rock of perfect imperfections. IMO John Legend has banished "perfect imperfections" from poetry for the foreseeable future.
It feels the burden of "of" seems a weak and unnecessary break.
A thousand watching, stony stares. The stares lose me, I don't know where they're coming from.
Like Gaia, sucked of soma-life Love the sound of this line.
By suckling wolves of its creation.
Why live the life of she who feeds?
Unwise it was of Gaia, that Eternal Healer-
Better are loyal dogs in supplication That meter I spoke of has disappeared.
Than leeches, born for blood.
The Mother suffers for her sin.
The Heart is siphoned of its life.
The Stars are pinned on coal-black slate
And gazed at,
Scrutinized,
And used.
Perhaps love is a zero-sum game. Nice line, though I really don't know how we got here.
Or at least the nature of the hounds necessitates:
She who loves, and bares her heart
Gambles. I was let down by the end, all of life's a gamble, cliche and nothing new.

I hope I was able to explain myself well enough to give you an idea of the difficulty I'm having with this, and that my notes might help you with an edit.

Hope you enjoy the site.