Everything in "my orbit" is in motion except the one thing that causes the motion. The speaker screams, paces, twists and circles, while "you" simply floats "serenly", observing. That imbalance is the poem's whole drama: a frantic figure caught around a still, silent centre, trying to keep a distance from something that never has to lift a finger. The central idea is that attraction and dread can be the same force. "i dont want to get any closer / but your magnetic force draws me in" puts both feelings side by side without trying to resolve them. The poem never says who or what "you" is, whether a person, a habit or a fear. That openness lets it fit any situation where wanting and fearing are tangled together.
The verbs carry most of the poem's emotion. "I close in" is a quietly double opening: it means approaching, but "close" also hints at an ending. What follows is a burst of participles, "screaming, wretching / desperately pulling away", all strain and no progress. The spelling "wretching" is a variant of "retching", but it also brings the word "wretch" to mind, which suits a speaker this miserable, though that is an inference rather than something the poem confirms. Against this noise, "float serenly" is slow and soft, full of liquid sounds. The contrast makes the "you" seem almost cruelly calm. The idiom "run rings around you" is turned upside down in the same way. Normally it means outdoing someone with ease, but here the speaker literally runs rings and loses anyway. The next lines, "pacing up and down / i run in circles", move from the restlessness of a caged animal to the old phrase for going nowhere. This is not a graceful planetary dance. It is anxiety given a path.
The form is bare. There is no rhyme, no punctuation and no capital letters at the starts of lines, so the poem reads like one long breath that the line breaks only occasionally interrupt. One detail stands out: the first line has a capital "I", but every later "i" is lowercase. Whether it was planned or not, the effect is that the speaker seems to shrink as the pull grows. Missing apostrophes ("dont") add to the hurried, unpolished voice, as if the lines were written down mid-struggle. The rhythm also changes. The early lines are short and jerky, "each pull harder and faster" speeds up as it is read, and the last line is flat and slow: "and i will never return". Tense shifts too. The poem begins in the present, then slides into the future with "until you will envelop me". The slightly odd grammar makes the ending sound less like a fear than a fact.
The imagery follows a similar slide. It begins in astronomy with "orbit", then moves to physics with "magnetic force". Magnets both attract and repel, which suits a speaker pulled and pushing away at once. Then comes "organic circles", a word from biology that quietly prepares for the poem's turn. At the end the distant, floating body opens a "gaping mouth", "ready to swallow me whole". The serene watcher was a predator all along, and the cosmic setting becomes bodily and frightening. The ending also breaks the logic of the title. An orbit, by definition, is a path that returns, so "never return" means the orbit itself will end. Even the possessive "my" in the title looks ironic by then, since the speaker claims a path that the other has been controlling.
The poem matters less for novelty than for how it handles a familiar idea. Being drawn to someone like a planet to a star is a common romantic image, and the poem keeps its gravity but removes the comfort. Its plain, unshowy language and its steady swerve from distant space to the intimate, threatening image of a mouth make it a good example of an extended metaphor that is built carefully and then turned against the reader's expectations. It captures a feeling that is hard to explain: knowing something is dangerous and being unable to stop circling it.