love left unreciprocated

morphs

changes it’s cellular structure

becomes something

else

a grape left to whither becomes a raisin yet retains it sweetness

love does not become a prune

nor does it facilitate the evacuation of the bowels of the soul

it hardens

once ripe it has a shelf life

a short period in which the juices pour down your chin

stain your clothes in heavy musk

alleviate the ills of a worn out world

then it changes

loses the potency

becomes

see

it has it’s own gravitational fluctuations

in it’s prime sweetness you float

feet never quite touching the ground

but as it fades

becomes something less in reality but more in memory

it anchors

tethers your heart to the center of a star

and as they die together

the force becomes more and more

and more

weighing the spirit down

until all light is absorbed

and all becomes cold

not like a plum becoming a prune at all

like apple seeds becoming cyanide

it happens without warning

no tell tale signs

if there are they are ignored

just one morning

you awaken to the song of birds

but it is chilling instead of uplifting

suddenly all you loved is gone

and the weight is all you know

inversely proportionate to the age of love’s demise

when left unreciprocated

love becomes a poison

a dwarf star

a pox

a stain

a farewell refrain

and silence is all you know