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.