blame gravity for the way we push and pull against each other? These minor adjustments in breathing hold the truth on the tip of my tongue and I choke on the beliefs I cannot release while he’s speaking monochromatic words that I should recognize; but all I can see is light reflecting and refracting, sucked in by the white side of a black hole, held hostage by her gravity sucking the stars from the sky. These are the thoughts that tend to exist, bursting in and out of the ways we define reality and complexity, practicality and abstraction. Language has become obsolete, so the words that do not exist live within a complex plane and we boil down love and sex and prayer to incomplete abstractions. It is like a star’s birth, no; but a gentle yearning- these things and more, but what if the things that tend to make us most real are those things that tend not to exist? The black holes come from the loneliness, a star that pulled too hard without pushing back, holding tight to the glittering darkness and burying its light; we seek that which binds our souls together and unquestioningly step into the earth, believing we will never sink or fly.
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