drops of jupiter

HOME

midnight strolls along the moon, it's the centre of our world as we orbit. silver puddles of stars staining the bottom of our feet as we move to the rhythm of the other world. to me, your heart speaks its own music, each symphony rattling against my rib cage.

the earth's heart is molten. hand in hand, we diverge to other planets, yet we're born from the earth and we're just like it, molten in our depths. this body isn't my real one—watch me shred this soft skin and pull my sweet face off.

the molten heart shot into us at our creation—it's hardened into something with boundaries, discrete and alone, but it longs to rejoin its source.

each electrifying detonation is a forewarning that we have betrayed the cosmos' laws in such the same way as when Eve sunk her teeth into the forbidden fruit in the beginning of time. time, time, time, we're running out, i'm reaching out, but—

we were not made to create homes yet we continue flying, seeking, envisioning—our skin is a mere concealment of the galaxies within, ones that cannot escape into the universe.

he embraces the maps engraved in his skin, the directions in which i stumble over and follow with a blind heart. what will happen when the road comes to an end, when the tip of my cold finger has nowhere to run itself on?

we let the universe ravage us,
squandering us and compressing us
until we burst into
embers and ashes.
time,
            time,
                       time.
time is a myth yet we have run out of him,
each distant ignition the sound of a
ticking seconds arm,
ready to snap.

my love, he lets his heart speak his own music even as the universe shows us no mercy. i'm raw, shattered in pieces; my body is gone. those on the blue planet which we call home, with their heads tilted back, will see us glittering in the night sky, our memories and hidden galaxies within us smeared across the world beyond, forever drifting in the hole we call home. even the universe cannot destroy our love.