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The Birth of a Black Hole

The sun, hissing my name, called me forth

My day of reckoning, brought alive by charred pavements

A sun-smog that told a certain half-truth

I, imbibed, embalmed, stepped into the world

And let it dictate my oblivious rest

A sleepwalk into myself, and him:

A smirk. ‘’Do you believe in

Your right to rule the world?

In self disclosure? In paradise?

Do you believe in hurting each other?

Do you believe it would feel good?

Is it the quenching of a celestial thirst,

Or is it an absence of God?’’

In the flashes of primordial truth

Glimpses of your inner composition

The material that strings you together and

Clumsily staples the frayed ends,

I saw a scared child. You had not slept

For twenty-four hours; I tagged along for coffee.

I had suddenly seen the sky, wide-eyed,

And wondered where I went wrong

As to be here with you, as opposed to feeling eternity

In some corner of the formless cosmos

In your careless caressing of my thigh,

I felt an enormity of nothing. A renunciation

Of a boundless expanse, the birth of a black hole

Within my chest. It was being nursed on the hate I devoured

I wanted to spit you out of my solar system and make a run for it…

It’s alright. I know how to lie, I know how to smile

I am a woman; I know how to make myself believe

That you are all I ever wanted

You burned into me unsalvageable desire. My flesh is scorched, arteries and veins ravaged (they hang in the space between what was and could’ve been), presenting me with my own sin – I must look it in

He is passion, etched desire, Unacquainted with a sun or moon Familiar with the pale fire That is often gone too soon A day without my love in arms Is waiting for the sun’s expansion That’s taking pro

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