i have been burning my whole life.
encased in immaculate flames,
flying too close to the sun
on these fragile wax wings.

— an image of icarus

that was almost -

there is nothing that lasts forever
for as long as i can remember;
i never fail to immortalise you
like a Greek myth in a statue -

and you don't deserve it.
a ball of outer space gases and petals
are not dance partners,
but if poppies grew on Jupiter
perhaps i'd bide better.

or for as long as i know it
i'd be an aimless planet
waiting to be more than monochrome
and there's no one else there
other than the ball of fire i circle in trepidation,

there is no jubilation in conjunction
waiting for your flowers.