gravity has favorites

i wasn’t born. i was accelerated. hurled from the mouth like anorexia had always known nervosa — held at gunpoint and released to binary collision. two stars made of lightning fear and trauma like they were meant to swallow the cold and we called it love. i was what pulsed after. don’t ever call it a miracle. i am proof that gravity has favorites and pain makes a joke like mass and yes— sometimes you survive the impact only to create a crater. i was not born. i was detonated. my words are knives in deadly silence and the light you see is just the supernova that survived- collapse.