In Space They Can’t Hear Your Love
How I wished to be an asteroid in their orbit
And fall out of it onto the terrain of their body,
But I am never a star for them to look up and wish upon.
No, I am the dark matter always there, but never seen.
They have fun with others while I hover just beyond
Their gravity well, space junk too light for gravity to care about.
Could I be a pulsar for them to see my heartbeat
On some lonely night out when they are deep in thought?
I am a singularity indefinitely because I am fixed
On being the one for them but never being noticed.
My love is a super nova, but I’m nearly burned out
Will I be here by the time the warmth of my heart reaches theirs?
Daydreamer, baker, and closeted comedian are some descriptors for Mario Kersey. He composes his poems between the ticks of the clock, for they are the only quiet places for him to conjure and compose. Semi-inspired verbiage appears @SyntaxPaladin.