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Oct 2016
Like Icarus
I flew to close to the sun
my wings of wax melted
and great was the sorrow.
My sun
we lit the match from both ends
and watched as my wings and fingers burned.
You were beautiful my sun, my wonderful wonderful love
but we were not meant
not meant to love
and so my sun
my lovely sin
I must say goodbye
This poem means so so much more.  I understand now.  I understand.
cass
Written by
cass  23/F
(23/F)   
  1.0k
   Cecelia K, ---, Ja and ren
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