Maybe
she's hollow
like the trees the raven perches on
and the words to a love song.
Maybe
he's empty
like a glass that spilled,
shattered, never again half- filled.
Maybe they're alone
lost in a forest of monsters,
drowning in a sea of souls.
But maybe the hollow
gives her more room to hold
newborn flowers
growing from the dust and dirt.
And maybe the emptiness
gives him more reason to hope
for light to slip through
the waves and tides,
for time so the summer can
come again and thaw the ice.
for
their petals to
blossom again
among the weeds.
YOU ARE READING
On Icarus Wings
Poetrybut what became of the boy whose dreams were carried on broken angel wings?
