They watch us fall together
And break apart
Like tree branches.

I watch us split apart.

The splinters in my back aren’t from your words,
But from me bending to fit the mold you made for me.

We’re like flies
Hovering in wood ceilings,
Waiting for someone to turn on the light.

And they watch as we dance around it.

We move too close,
I’m not Icarus
But I fly towards the sun anyway.

I want to feel the heat on my skin;
Instead of feeling like your emptying out what’s left of me.

Icarus didn’t know better,
Neither did the flies.

I know better.

I’m aware of our insanity
But I let us repeat ourselves.

Your words hit my skin and leave me
Breathless again, like an addiction
And I let memories of your heartbeat
Drown out the logic of my conscience.

I’m not the fly.
I’m not Icarus,
And you’re not the sun.
You’re not the light,
I am.

And it’s going out.