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alexis Oct 5
if you asked me the moment
icarus felt like tragedy and poetry,
i would laugh and say he knew,
that boys who love suns are already tragedy,
but seas who love boys are poetry,
because love is a double edged sword
and the moment of clarity ends all too soon.
5 octobre 2020
11:34 am.
Alex Scaife Sep 30
Icarus cradled himself as the
Surface roared closer and closer,
Screaming like a siren in his ear

For a brief moment he looked and saw
That tower which had kept him and all
That surrounded it. It used to be ugly
But now with death approaching, all that was
ordinary became too beautiful to bare.
First poem in ages
Cross Boundry Sep 23
Sometimes people just care too much
and it hurts.
But anyway
We'll try
We'll fly
and we'll fall.
Again
and again.
wings of wax won't hold forever
N Sep 22
Lover,
I need you to stand still
with your feet in the water

Let me drink your reflection
to quench my thirst as you
try to hide your tender smile

I beg of you,
don't leave me,
because then the sun will burn me,
and the sea will swallow my ashes
Shane Leigh Aug 2017
I fell,
Hard, at the breaking of dawn
from loving you.
Loving the high, like Icarus,
on wax wings
with all warnings said -
and unheeded.

But the fall was too grand,
Too glorious,
and I would have never fallen
if I had heeded the cautious words
of a cautious man -
one who knows naught
of the grandeur of falling.
© Shane Leigh
Crystal Fang Sep 12
always at the edge
of taking flight;
not knowing you would fall-
or simply not believing it
my lovely Icarus,
taking to the sky
tell me you'll return
indulge me one more lie
kaehaniya Aug 31
thought he was doing the right thing too.
8/31/2020
alexis Aug 29
you’ve become nothing
but fire and wax and regrets.
you’ve become a cautionary tale,
a warning of loving too much too fast
you’ve become a memory
in a long list of lovers, of tragedies

you’ve become nothing
but ash and feathers and bone,
you’ve become a story,
a tale of boys who fell for suns
you’ve become a glimpse,
a moment of clarity that ends all too soon
29 août 2020
3:10 pm
N Aug 28
Would my grave be
deeper than my wounds?

Would the warmth of the morning sun
still reach my cold forgotten body?

Would Icarus, my bird, fly to the sun looking for me,
is my selfish death going to cost him his wings, too?

Would the worms weep when
they ******* tormented flesh?

Would the lines I wrote no longer
be read as poems but suicide notes?
alexis Aug 3
you burned like a star
they whispered,
terror and awe laced in their words

you burned so hard, so bright
everyone but the sun had to look away
the sun stared down as
the burning boy fell underneath the water-
blue hands reaching up to catch him.

stars burn out too fast
they speak,
indifference and pity colour their words.
3, août 2020
12:23 am.
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