drops of jupiter

soaked in the milk of the same sun

inside of the first's heart is where the sun was birthed in the depth of a billion galaxies. he talks to me while sitting on his roof at midnight, his eyes glued to the night sky. when he falls silent, i crawl out of my bed and move towards my window, pulling the curtains aside so that i have the chance to see through his eyes. he hops across planets in his dreams, sprinting around its circumferences—without him, the earth would not spin. he is made for the wild, made for discovering the unknown. even the ocean's waves could not swallow him whole, the moon's seal is carved into his soul—his guide and protection. the milky way lies in his eyes—when he's not around, i gaze up at the sky each night so that i have the chance to look into the windows of his starry eyed soul. i trace my fingers around the edges of his beating heart, clutching it in my fist. he wants to die in space. but you'll burn. you'll explode. you won't float forever, i said. i know, but i'll be a part of the universe. i think about how i want to be one with nature, to descend into the soil, to transfer my life to the withered roots, for a tree to sprout in my name. he falls silent again, leaving me gazing upwards on my own.

the other, i see him in daylight when the sun beats down on his face in golden wonder. he stands out like gold in a pot of silver, too grown and mature for his age. the trees and the rivers couldn't humble him, it's almost as though they fall into rhythm with the calm and slow beating of his heart. his sweet smile blooms with the buttercups i pick for him and the stars ache to collide with the earth just for a taste of his sun-kissed soul. he radiates the light of day yet i find myself wondering what his voice sounds like in the ungodly hours—who is he at midnight, when the sun no longer sends him its liquified beauty? the moon competes for his love as it gazes down at him through the crack of his window, a sleeping beauty in which the sun wakes up with its morning kisses. he was a sculpture created for the heavens in which nature blew life into him. parisian beauty, his honey sculpted face radiates across the land. his desire for being one with the wind—i wonder what it feels like for the ground to be able kiss his soles.

i wonder, is there such a thing as loving two? because i think that i do.