MOONLIGHT SONATA . . . regulus black

𝖝𝖝𝖎𝖎. stripe my ribs with wax

the setting sun carses my hallowed cheeks,
a rouge hue painting imaginary orchids
across my heavy eyelids.
back leaning on a thousand years tree,
lost in soft grass, the evening's breeze
ruffling my chestnut silken loks,
i can't help but fantasise.

what would it be like to have a lover?
one that could set a bonfire in your chest,
dance under the cold moonlight
and point towards the sky
calling out every star's name,
teasing the night for being so scornful.

a lover as bright as a young greek god.

how would it be like to love the heart of a poet?
someone that could speak in a single language
yet a thousand all at once,
keep the secrets of the world in their pockets,
that had seen the wonders of some far,
far away worlds and learnt forgotten arts
created by spirits of nature?

i fell in love with the stars
but i forgot they were some
petite suns of their ones

i forgot that my wings will melt
and stripe my ribs with wax of
endless lights.

will you catch me, hecate?
or will you let the waves have me?
am i your icarus and are you my apollo?
my poet, my young greek god?

because if you are
i will burn.

and i do not regret a thing.