the dark matter of the heart

the dark matter of the heart.
I thought this to be a good title for a poem,
a cool name
for a bleak poem.
It would inspire sad feelings on happy people
and compel them to read it.
Alas, my little scheme did not work out.

Unfortunately, I felt no sad nor bleak impulses that would compel me to write,
so I kept staring at the blank page on my desk, waiting for a raven to come tapping at my chamber-door.
Nothing came. Nothing on the page except the cool title on top.

I began to ponder on the significance of the title,
"the dark matter of the heart". I came up with two distinct meanings:
(a) some empty, hollow space located in the heart, a cavity devoid of substance, possibly a vacuum;
(b) some obscure affair held by the heart, a secret, a conundrum, possibly dangerous if set free, venomous if kept contained.

I wrote both definitions with a blue ballpoint pen on the right margin of the page, small script,
I thought about them for a moment and tried to sadden my spirit. I thought of sad news I´d recently read, dreary films and songs,
curiously, I did not try to recall any gloomy experiences of my own,
proof of my addiction of second-hand emotions.

Regardless, I straightened myself up on my fake leather office chair
and adjusted the pen in my hand.

The poem could now begin.