Nothing Like the Sun

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun.
Dark, brooding wells of ravenous desire;
one look and all is lost, too late to run.
Too late when she consumes me whole, entire.

No, nothing like the sun, more a black hole.
and I'm a comet, hopelessly in orbit,
to strut my tail and prostitute my soul,
in secret hopes the goddess will absorb it.

Though like the sun she singes with her stare
she's nothing like, no warmness in her lashes,
and just as angry when her nostrils flare
reducing me to cinder dust and ashes.

No, mistress, she is nothing like the sun.
The sun's one star of many. She is one.