My Heart is Busy Pumping
My heart is busy pumping all it's blood into you,
As if you were a molecular black hole,
Vampire-primed, with internal fangs
Pointed my direction; binary sun's shock wave,
Incendiary protoplasm of your outlaw universe
Sucking on my hearts invisible dark matter
My heartbeat becoming a rocketing pulsar, pinging across space
In close alignment, our stars almost collide
Held apart only by the shared exchange
And as my nebula shrinks, it's drawn into your cortege
Your O-ring of decaying protons, devastating the surrounding space
All creation now falls into that flaming circle of doom,
All exits through the open door of my ever enlarging heart;
The noise and brilliance, without equal
And even though it means death,
I know that viewing my own celestial fireworks
Will be the highlight of my life;
Always knew I must be meant for bigger things
But don't stop looking up now..
Great poem.Nicely written.Thanks for sharing it.
This is a great write, the thought of your own death being such a fantastic sight and it being the highlight of your life.
The imagery and combination of words is invigorating. I am beguiled at how you write of death here.