Event Horizon
You arrived like a rupture in time,
some semantic glitch in the fabric,
sparking where there was nothing…
a rupture before the rapture.
I think—no, I know—
you were watching before I saw you.
The air bent first,
whispers in the pressure,
like the universe leaning in to hear
my last rational thought.
Then—impact.
Your voice, a blade of static slicing through the hush,
laughter curled at the edges
like the flame of Prometheus—
your hand not quite touching,
but gravity-tight, tightening.
You orbit too close,
little devils of you perched at the curve of my jaw,
whispers in my ear like Eris at a wedding,
golden apple gleaming between your fingers,
asking nothing—offering everything—
dares dressed as questions.
“Why hesitate?”
Your presence is the Big Bang in reverse—
not an explosion outward,
but a collapse inward—
atoms realigning to your will.
You speak, and my spine remembers
that I was built to bow.
Charon must know my name by now.
A coin pressed to my tongue,
your palm sealing my fate—
like Persephone’s pomegranate kiss.
I was spontaneous once,
but now I am simply reactive,
a particle caught in your chain reaction.
I should run.
Instead, I step closer.
And the Nyx of us
smiles.
Copyright ©
Laura Breidenthal
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