My love is like a galaxy:
All dust and gas and empty space.
Peer close into the heart and see
A black hole beating in its place.
And unlike clouds that outward shine
With brightness of a thousand suns,
My galaxy is not so fine—
It sputters weak with flame from one.
But even then some jealous god
Our gravitation freely bent:
So now we orbit rather odd,
Yet close but far, and she content;

And so I’ve none for Valentine,
A friend, maybe, but not quite mine.