Black Holes and Silver Linings
Over time,
I've realized
That I've allowed
Black holes
To grow in my chest.
I should come with warning labels:
"Will suck the life out of you."
I have become something
I cannot escape.
I collapse into myself,
Like a dying star.
Inside me, a black hole grows.
That's why
I sleep with my back turned
Because I don't want you
To see me unguarded.
But you were not afraid
To caress my sandpaper skin
Or lose your way
In between the folds of my stomach.
You saw the sky
As you traced
The constellations
On my face.
But inside me, a black hole grows.
I cringe
And shudder at your touch,
Not because I don't love you
But because I don't love myself.
The world did a fantastic job
In convincing me
That I am hard to love.
But you loved me anyway.
And I still wonder why you do—
My heart is made of bones
And sharp edges
Meant to push people away.
Inside me, a black hole grows.
That's why
I always wake up first.
So there can be things
Left between
The coffee cup and my lips
That only both of us know.
I whisper secrets to it,
Like an old friend.
I say,
When I was younger,
Fear was losing my head in the clouds,
Or finding out that they don't have
Silver linings.
Now, fear is losing the feeling
Of your rough hands on my skin.
Your touch has so much gravity.
It can create black holes of its own
But inside me, a black hole grows.
Stronger than your hands can pull.
When you place your ears here,
To hear a hollow beating,
You will hear nothing,
But the vacuum of cold, cold space.
Inside me, a black hole still grows.
But you don't care.
And sometimes,
I don't either.
Because maybe the black holes
Inside us—
In my chest
And on your hands,
Give us a place to hide
When the world is too much with us.
Put your hands
On my chest.
Feel the cold vacuum of space.
Close your eyes.
Let it take you.
At least
Black holes
Pull us closer
And never let go.