magnets of antimatter

We bleed black gravity
trying to find shadows on the sun
with paper wings
panic prone in the bright lights
chasing dreams we’ve never defined

This birdcage is God given
gloriously hung between two lungs
a flesh machine pulsing
death through aging veins
that have been decaying
since the moment they were imagined

I suffocate on this sinking night
of smoke and skin painted glass shards
trying to remember when you bled
like sunshine on my window
a supernova voyeur
in a back yard of galactic fauna
eyeing me across the vastness
of finite space

I’m possessed by antimatter
caught in the consanguinity
of our blood
too close to see your silhouette
along the fissures of your skin
that explode like a universe dying
every time you smile

Our back yard a wasteland
of dying stars
waiting to collapse
back into the black
where they first began
as pieces of nothing

© Indie Adams 2015