An Ode to Muses to Melpomene

Icarus's Legacy

I want to come home

To smiles in the shape of city lights

And hair that bounces with lustful adrenaline.

Use me as your canvas and paint me with kisses.

I cannot hold onto these forgotten traumas

And inflict them onto you with a scorpion's sting.

I only hate you when I miss sharing our grievances.

To be honest, I love you

And only hate that you can't be here loving me.

This I show in silent acts of worship,

But never praise.

I want you to take my bloody hands,

Collect this liquid in a chalice,

And drink my wine until you drown.

I refuse to sober up

And be void of this hallucination.

This cannot be a real story,

Written with gold ink and tablets of stone.

Please come home

And teach me every word for love in your language.

Let me watch you as I dawn black garments,

While you connect the freckles on my body into constellations.

I wish to capture what I see when I close my eyes,

Refuse to let you go,

And wield a paintbrush as a weapon.

I struggle to match your skin tone to paint

And instead, opt for pens and black ink dipped in your soul.

You don't finish your sentences,

Which makes me wonder if this chapter will end in a period or a comma.

Take me to the mountains from the maps in fantasy novels,

Where heaven falls from the sky as powdered sugar.

Let us make imprints on nature's winter coat

And blow blessings we can taste.

Take me to all the places the others failed to follow

And dare not repeat their names.

You tend to hide answers in questions

And pretend to have the upper hand.

I do not appreciate lies disguised as confusion

And I never forget what is omitted in conversation.

I live in assumptions that stiffen when left in the cold.

As my body freezes,

I throw myself over the bridge.

I sink what you called your heart and seal my openings shut.

Yet, you pry open this shell and collect pearls.