Where do all the unrequited feelings go?

Do they swim the depths of oceans in schools, as soft bellied fish. Silvered flashes against ink tapestries. Vigilant watch kept for any sign of life beyond their own. Swish this way; quash that.

Or do they reside in murkier abyss? Such as the Grouper who lives solitary; no group. Name forsaken like his affections. Profundities abound.

Do they retreat to the tops and tips of the tallest of trees? In the remotest of jungles? Their only visitors, daring marsupials in search of the rarest of fruits found here. Is it any coincidence they abscond with such sweet nectars in the night.

Are they deep in cavernous mountains, hollowed by years of persistent drip of drab water. Soft, resolute chisel. Where the smallest and rarest creatures dwell, blind to everything but themselves.

Do they hide unseen, in plain sight? Like pale skinned serpents in vast expanse of desert. Sloloming smoothly, singular. Whose only enemy is winged predation. Both villainous in this wasteland of cracked red rock; bleeding earth.

Do they flock in murders, gaggles, knots and fleets. Fluttering in feathered assemblage over boundless meadows. Resting together in solemn heaps? Together mingling with the sheeps.

Am I comprised entirely of these things?

My fingers splayed like thick jungle canopy, yearning to be picked. Stomach full of ocean, sloshing, seasick. Are the serpents and predacious flights all my own? The speckled sprawling desert spread for miles, dried and caked on my soul. All of the trickling water, within. Carving out grottos in the dim. Will all the fish ever master a choreographed swim?

Alas, I have swallowed microcosms of melodious symbiosis. Song birds that peep. Hilltops and trees. Seas full of honey and trenches full of bees.

I can not cast out this net of affection in to foaming surf. Trawling for a lovers rebirth. So my insides remain, still needing wide berth.

Yet I’ve concluded my unrequited feelings are just as wild and beautiful as Earth.

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