That void,
in the center of her eyes,
that little black space,
a vacuum pulling you in,
into the nothingness that she is;

The iris,
lining itself around the emptiness,
distracting you, or at least trying to,
keep you from falling into the vacant spaces that lie beyond;
in vain;

For as hard as they try,
the fall in inevitable;
She draws you in like a moth to a flame,
or more correctly, like light to a dead black star;

That Void,
we are drawn to it,
we hunger for it,
we crave,
for our breaths to be taken away.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar