IN JUPITER IT RAINS

t w e n t y

we always talk about unrequited love / about the feeling of carrying a stone in your throat and swallowing the ache of words unsaid / the cliffhanger that is a mouth open / the forfeit of words turned letters that attach themselves sharply to the muscle of neck / feel the cut of letters hit your stomach / and we always wonder where it goes / this unsolicited desire that holds us captive at the edge of a precipice / is not what i want to talk about anymore. / when do we talk about unwanted love? / love given to us and not cared for / the kind that feels equal parts keepsake and guard / that holds us responsible for a heart not asked for. / why don't we ever ask where rejected love goes? / i am afraid to know the answer. / to ask the question. / to look under pale skies and see eyes waiting for me and feel nothing. / how do you collect a love you do not want but know would be gentle? / do you embalm it in salt, wrap it in linen, place a charm into its mouth and leave it to the catacombs of a gone city? / do you drop it into a labyrinth and let it devour itself / do you let it in? / make a home for it in the marrow of your heart, kiss it with open palms but closed eyes and whisper a sacrifice / do you pretend to love it back? / because it can be simple / it can taste like ambrosia even if you feel the quicksand in your lungs / it could be what you need, but what does it matter if it is not what you want? / could you return it? / wrap into their veins and tell them goodbye at the end of using their love like a secondhand chance of feeling wanted / why don't we talk about those who loved us in spite of ourselves? / those who wanted us in any form they could and the feeling of calcifying sores into their eyes, seeing cataracts form on their once open-mouthed smiles, feeling callouses erupt onto your arms where their fingers kissed skin / and you, you are holding candle wax to open flame and pouring molten desire and pain into the mouth of a willing victim / you can taste their regret / you can hear them begging / and when they ask me where does love go / i stare at my limbs melting from  guilt for wanting to be loved / but not wanting the obligation to love in return / 

i have no idea what this is but i haven't uploaded in ages and i miss writing but also don't think i'm very talented so uh...here's this