D I V I N I T Y

TO LOVE IS TO

To love is to want
And you wanted him in the most unholy ways

You beckoned
With sunlight soaked fingers
And he followed
With tragic wax feathers

To love is to burn
And he burned
b e a u t i f u l y
As he fell into the waves
Of an ever taking ocean

Tell me, Golden Boy,
Which burns brighter:
You?
Or the sun that sits on your shoulders?

To love is to fall
And he fell for you
g o r g e o u s l y

Some of us were made to fly
Some of us were made to fall
But we were all made to b u r n