by anne agustin
two black holes
not even a glint of light escapes,
not a spark of recognition,
not a pale flash of delight
just two dark,
deep,
and cold blackness
whose center remains a mystery
even to great Einstein and Galileo themselves
but pulls this helplessly falling heart of mine
closer and closer
as each second passes every MWF
and though i try to clasp the empty space around me,
those black holes,
those merciless enigma in the center of galaxies
are right there in the cold silent classroom
creating a swirl of starry delight
among the eyeballs fixed on him,
but I wouldn't ever be an ordinary galaxy star
for as each body swirls and spreads away
my heart stays close
and will even be closer next meeting
to Sir
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2 comments:
The poem bleeds with mushiness and sentimentality, but, hey, it's a love poem and it's supposed to sound desperate. I like everything, except the poet's pseudonym. There are better names. I loathe the name Anne. S.N.
aha does Sir know this? cute hee:)
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