Icarus's fruit draws me in
I've heard the stories, yet my mind
Falls... drowns in the thirst
So delicate and driven, a familiar scent
Do I turn to the snake? No!
I'd let it snatch my face in it's own time
Give me a day with him.
He's like a Greek monument, so don't shame me for slipping a hand.
He grasps pearls of desire and places them around my throat
He too wears his wings with pride, on salty skin just like it's for my sight.
I smile into the crushed snake
It couldn't handle the pressure of his nature.
Mother's eyes are watching, I know
Mother's shaking her head....
Upwards we ascend, from one hell into another
Pleasing myself on an amplitude unknown to me, him, and you.
YOU ARE READING
Roses In Death
PoetryPoems strung together by notes, telling the story of a love that arrived and passed.
