all i can do is watch
as the blackhole forms
in the middle of my lungs,
heavier than the sun.
a star had collapsed
in the space between my ribs,
now it consumes whole planets
with a cosmic indifference.
i stand frozen, horrified
at what this abyss is capable of;
swallowing light, Death himself
manifested in my chest.
more colossal than life itself,
my rib cage aches with weight.
but i keep still,
i cannot make a sound.
YOU ARE READING
Post - it
ContoRevelations, poems, short stories and three a.m monologues, all as tiny as a post-it
