You were standing
in a line of quasars 
and I was taken
by your magnetism.

Your helium
had emptied the room,
had stolen my breath,
and all I could do

was gaze

through the cylinders
of lenses hanging above,
and me, relenting
to gravity's coaxing hands.

The dark matter aloe
that made up your skin
was tangible, I swear,
like debris in my lost caress.

I had to ask, just how lonely
was the vacuum,
when all the comets,
had dissolved

in our little atmosphere?

Your answer
was nothing short
of a soundless ambience,
a supernova,
exploding at the center

of our universe.