Daedalus should have fled at night. Under the moon’s gaze, there would not be Hot wax, burning A path down Icarus’ back. Melting.
A sharp pain against the Fear that traps a scream in his throat as he Falls. Fal ling.
I fell in love with the moon. Stones thrown into a pond will never, I can never remove the moon from memory. But Icarus fell in love with the sun.
Bright, blinding, blistering. But the moon … At night when you hear the world go still Holding its breath after their first kiss and you don’t Want to let it go.
But Icarus screams as he falls and Apollo stares. The sun looks on As the light kisses his wings With saltwater lips and Icarus Breathes it in.
He had the clouds in his lungs And air in his flesh Bubbles and gasps and the pond remembers the moon But does not
Know Icarus. So he flew and he fell and we learnt To love the night that whirls (as nothing but pinpricks) To fall for the relentless birth of supernova and black holes And it pulls at your stomach like the tide, right out Of your skin.
And we Ache.
We bleed, cry, love, We burn.
Fingertips on fire as we breathe in the ash Our insides sear as we cannot stand to look
And we fall,
In love with the sky.
( achingdivinity / atlas )
