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My lady is a pulsing star,
Her light brightens the sky so far.
Theory has it that she shines non stop,
But I only see her when her light's on top.

A black sky with a light so frail;
She turns, spins and whirls her double tail.
What a coward she is to hide in a night so very dark,
She is unique... she is my spark.

I'm a shooting comet and my game is speed;
I wish I could just halt and fill my need.
We comets burn but harbor frozen hearts;
We cross the sky like lightening darts.

Comets are not really bright,
I'm not sure what causes her flickering light.
Her moving tails are quite hypnotic,
I dream of them. See them twisting, so erotic.

I would change my orbit to get closer to my pulsing star
But her light and darkness are at war.
I love her light and hate the lack thereof;
What a pathetic definition of my love.

In a second attempt I contemplate her tomorrow.
Will she become a singularity filled with sorrow?
I'd rather see her burst with light,
I wished she would win her fight.

Her light is so incredibly small,
I wonder if she still exists at all.
Wished I could share the fire of my passage,
To nudge her fire with my heart's message.

But what if my very touch,
Is… to rough… too much?
I don't dare to risk her light,
Messing with it… just won't seem right.

Smart comets might leave it up to my beloved star,
What she wants and what would leave a scar.
The size of light must be misleading,
The pinprick size deceiving.

What a glorious sight must be her grace,
The power to bend light and space.
But while she spins she doesn't really move,
So all my speculations are lacking prove.

And all the while momentum carried us apart.
Nothing happened; we didn't get to start.
Maybe things have changed when next we pass.
Maybe then I'll get sucked into your cloud of superheated gas.
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Submitted on
November 10, 2012
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