The Resurrection of Icarus

If I am to die, then let me do so, dagger in hand, twisting the blade between your ribs.

Smiling as the blood rushes through my fingers, watching your face grow cold.

If I am to die, then let me do so completely untethered to this false reality we so quickly call a home.

I feel the struggle in your convulsions as you so desperately cling to life.

Nerve endings and tissue stick to the steel as you clinch me harder while I push you to be free.

If I am to die, then let me burn these boats as we arrive to shore, allowing the flames to consume everything we once loved.

Then and only then can we become death and rise up against the tides of bondage so rooted in our carnality.

The pain, albeit ephemeral, holds no weight to the bliss and ecstasy of this release.

Freeing clipped wings that once transcended the sun now embrace the moon.