drops of jupiter

wherefore art thou, romeo?

modern romeo; he repels from me and, once again, the love he keeps so tightly sealed up is forever my forbidden fruit. i need no convincing to pierce my teeth into it except it isn't within my reach, instead caged between his soft fingers that live in the deep dark pockets of his jeans.

black-winged angel, he comes out with the moon and the owls, when the sky fades away and the sun drowns in the stars, when his true form cannot be seen by the faint-hearted, when his day truly begins, when my day ends.

he takes flight and i wonder what it would be like to fly with him but there is no space for passengers on his journey and no end to his map. angel boy; the gods paint his wings black with the ink of his eyes—eyes that will never meet mine.

he bathes in the tears of the clouds and runs with the stars, denying me—his star-crossed lover—entry into the doorway of his sugar glazed soul.

bright star. you kindled me, heap of ashes that i am, into fire. you were the first dream of my soul, the only dream i was never able to stop dreaming.

i sleep on the earth's back under the comfort of her roof: heaven's ground floor—the place where he came from, hoping i might see him once more.