Somewhere close to a black hole, time slows to a steady pace
Slow enough to reach out and trace every inch of a face and love every blemish your fingers reach
Slow enough to know better
Slow enough to know that when each second feels like a minute, you better eat up every moment

My heart has four chambers.
3 of them pump cold blood throughout my body, just enough so I can tell you drunken love tales.
But one of them

One of those chambers stays reluctant while I reach for an empty bottle and mistake it for an empty hand.

As I float, so effortlessly, headfirst into a black hole, and I see time progress slow enough to watch a smile fade into a scowl,
as I do what I shouldn't,
I can't help but obsess over the longest seconds I'll ever feel;
the ones where I'm touching your lips