United States
29° 28' 7.3236" N, 98° 37' 17.634" W

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.

This poem is about: 
My family


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