The summers are hot, but you are hotter.
Your wings are made of wax melting
nothing left but a paint by numbers.
You tell me it’s okay,
you’ll come back fine.
I watched you take that plunge
you never recovered.
Wings of wax can only help you play Icarus for
so long, you were hot the sun was hotter
I didn’t need you until you fell.
Your laugh, green eyes, always seen in me
she looks just like he did, my aunt would agree.
Such a shame you were only a visiting angel,
trying to regain your prestige,
you tried too early and now you’re gone
paper heart burned in a blaze of glory.
Thank you for the time you gave me,
though I wish it was longer-
for all I have of you is a signature and ashes.