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We know we are living because we bleed, And we know we are breathing because it hurts

You fell in love with a blistering sun and forgot to cry out when your lips became singed with pain Oh, you wanted to devour that love whole and have it illuminate all the darkest parts of you But it would only burn you alive to have that kind of fire running through your veins. Forget all the stories written about Icarus—forget the tragedy, Kiss Apollo on the lips and drink in all the heat that radiates from that touch As your eyes start to water and his hands start to wander, Let the tears travel down the length of your face and create the ocean into which you will fall (Then, only then will you have the strength to look Artemis in the eyes and tell her that her cold shoulder was freezing your heart. That you wept every night because the stars blanketed you in their vacant stares and you felt vulnerable without her arms around you. The phases of the moon were a disheartening reminder that she never liked falling asleep next to you, especially when she could be out in the woods finding her next kill.) You asked the artists to paint Apollo’s face as a wash of anguish as you slipped from his reach; Golden tears crystallizing in his eyes that would melt only when he forgets how softly you cradled his neck. It won’t matter anyways, by then the waves will have slid your body beneath a suffocating blanket of rolling blue, And you’ll have already forgotten the tremble of his breath against your skin Icarus’ love-struck daze stole his chance to say goodbye, and he begged to be able to as he plummeted to meet the ocean. You didn’t have anyone left to say goodbye to, so you accepted your fate with spread palms and tried not to think about just how much the impact would hurt.

What happens to us when we die? We’ll be gods;      worshipped and exhalted.      holding power unimaginable.      eternally lovely      and immortally lonely. We’ll be stars;      blazing gloriously.      wondered upon and wished for.      wiser beyond our years      yet helpless to the passage of time.

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