You were the universe.
A vast region unknown to me.
A bright place of loneliness.
A hope filled area of oblivion who made me feel like I was the only star in its galaxy.

I saw all the stars that surrounded you. Dead light kisses, hot ball of gazes, plasma filled temptation. I closed my eyes and wished I was a planet.

You know, The Fermi Paradox says that a civilization cannot overcome its current state because of The Great Filter.

So when you gave me those heartaches and you kissed me with broken promises, baby, I knew from then that you were The Great Filter and I was the civilization who cannot move on.

In your galaxy-like heart, you were the sun.
She was Mercury and I was Neptune.
She was hot. I was colder than snow.
She was small and everything you've ever wanted. I was big and distant. Disconnected and alone.

So I understood when you gave her the heat I needed in my coldest days.

The universe is filled with dynamically evolving things that are unfathomable to me.
A roaming blackhole that ***** feelings deep into the void
Hungry for validation, for affection, for attention. You consumed me.

Placed into nothingness, filled with grieve and loss, I deteriorated.

Lights flickering, slowly burning out, I smiled. I looked at the planets and stars inside the galaxy you've created.

"My brightness was the factor of how much effort I put in but I will never be enough to light your expanding universe."