tyrants

icarus in my reflections

thinking about the warmth in your eyes and the way your name tastes hot and sharp against my teeth/
about how i would fight a war for you if it meant i could press the worn edges of your voice deep into my skin/
and curl my fingers against your scalp/the color of all the beautiful things faded and kind/butter soft in the spaces my hands would sink/ my wings trembling - tremors of sweet shocks as/
i was finally granted love/ the kind that's searing and harsh and blind/ fiercer and brighter than sunlight/ lovelier than the rush of a breaking wave