Dark Matter

Dark matter lives inside of me.
It’s a midnight colored spiral that moves from mind to heart to bowels.
It is a staircase for the dark set of emotions that travels with impunity throughout my every day.
It pulls negativity and despair to center where they high-five over chants of “Give up.” “Give in” and “Girl, You don’t got this.”
It celebrates every time I give in, and I do give in, and I do give up. Often times feeling the weight of those footsteps stomping up and down that internal staircase like tantruming children, waiting for someone to pay attention to their taunts. Needing someone to acknowledge their naughtiness, their existence.
The Dark matter exists.
It is real.
It is a reality.
It fights for it’s spot on my stage, sucking out every glimmer from the spotlight it demands until the audience can no longer tell if the performance is going on or if the heavy velvet curtains have been pulled.
Do we applaud now?
Is it over?
But it’s never really over.
I could accept accolades from a thousand loving hearts.
I could throw my arms around a thousand lovers.
I could bask in the glow of a thousand suns.
It wouldn’t matter.
Thor and his mighty hammer couldn’t knock this staircase down and close off its dark entrance to my heart.
The staircase will spiral through me, just as certain as the sun will shine on me. Just as certain as the moon will pull through me. And I will listen to those stompy footfalls until my last day when my eyes finally close.