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.