The Gravity of Her
By Caroline Wolff
She wore Saturn’s rings on her fingers
and she hung the stars from her ears.
Her lips were painted red with the matter of Mars
and she had stardust in her tears.
Her hands were gloved with galaxies
and she had comets in her hair,
and I looked at her like she hung the moon
and kept the sun aflare.
Her mind was vast and deep and dark,
so I tried to explore it.
I found her supernova
and soon, I came to adore it.
The infinity of my affinity
for her nebulous divinity
and inescapable pull of gravity
might just drive me toward insanity;
And I know it’s the fault of my susceptibility
to intense sentimentality,
and my tendency to choose my dreams over reality,
but for this girl,
I will thrust myself into a black hole of toxicity,
let the dark matter swallow me;
At every cost, I will gladly be
the satellite to orbit her with nothing less than loyalty.
She is cosmic, magnetic, galactic, ultraviolet.
I could try for light years but I still couldn’t deny it.
She’s all that’s in my atmosphere, my universe, my head;
If girls are from Venus, I wanna live there instead.