The Black Hole Where Your Heart Should Be

So you’ve discovered you’ve got a black hole where your heart should be.
Nobody told you how much of a presence this absence would have.

What they told you was that you’ll suck it all in.
That you don’t want much of anything, and yet you want it all,
not to have or hold but to transform beyond recognition,
to spit out somewhere else never to be seen again.

What no one said was that black holes emit heat.
There’s something here, something in you,
something that moves and breathes too small to notice.
There’s a dancing ring of light around the black hole where your heart should be.

It’s alright. Stay put.
You can see everyone’s burning hearts in the distance,
you can see them waltz, systems within systems,
all keeping their distance from the black hole where your heart should be.

When they finally get their telescopes in order,
when they finally get the tools
they need to open you up and see how you tick,
they’ll tell you what the heat at the pit of you was saying the whole time:

I love you. I want nothing more from you.