The birthplace of comets was
in the back of my mind, and you
were just the right combination
of space dust and frozen gases.
I pretended I could speak to fish
when you weren't around, the
fishtongue a celestial body on its own,
one whose orbit was different from yours
I wanted something eclectic other than your wisdom
(as eclectic as the ocean life crashing on the rocks,
underwater meteors impacting the shores), but
instead I left eclecticism to the scientists.
And even though you were a comet,
you were so deep in my ribcage
that it hurt to rip you outbut out you came,
crying as you left your dead mother-heart
Ripped out of orbit you streamed through
the eternity, the perpetuity you realized
you had always longed for; not even
the blackest of holes could stop you.