Nightclub in Heaven

there used to be a nightclub up there,

suspended in heaven

where the stars would dance
like we did
synced in binary rotations with the planets
twirling around our hips
as we dreamt of music…

gravity wins
and we each tear life from one another
shoot solar flares
across the dining room table
where the only thing more beautiful
than one dying star
is two

technicolour quasars of our hearts
      dense and heavy
reluctantly watching the celestial dance
as stars move in the galaxy behind your eyelids

and we can see our whole future
      mapped out
in the corona of two black holes
      dancing
and dying
in the nightclub up there,

in heaven.