It's not my fault that you're a catastrophe that outshines entire galaxies,
and that the remnants from your explosion lies within my own body
and the bodies of everyone who has the privilege to experience your beautiful tragedy.
Felt from light-years away,
you exceed the amount of love the sun provides everything in its wake,
and you're a burst of color who's shades travel at record speed
impaling everything in your path in a flash so blinding
that even my heart can't see straight.
You're the most violent event ever known
but I'm anything but destroyed.
You  can blow yourself apart as many times as you want
but I'll never see you as simply the death of something beautiful.
Instead I see you as the puzzle pieces that create universes you'd never imagine when put back together.
Long story short,
you're cataclysmic to life as we know it,
but you're everything I need to feel together again.