I'm grey, bland, a boy made of simple wax.
With one look she melted my heart and my wings,
but her sad words kept me tied to her strings.
She was so fun, full of impulsive acts
until it hurt, words cut like an axe.
Wound too tight, much like fathers coiled springs.
Weeping boiling tears, emotions now sting
my skin, turning black with soot, smoke filled lungs.
She left me for dead, with victimized words,
I addressed my burns and rebuilt myself
She soon returned with that expecting smile.
But her flames gave me third degree burns.
Unlike Hestia, her flames were of hell.
But with regrown wings, I fly free for miles.
YOU ARE READING
Icarus & the Sun
Romance"she was the sun, so bright and bold. And I was Icarus, just begging to be burned."
